Descent
by Liapocalypse
Summary: A women tells the story of her descent into madness and hell at the right hand of the Joker.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This story is about a mother telling her daughter about the story of how she came to know her father. It develops slowly over time. If you are looking for a fast character fix then this is not the story for you. If, however, you are patient, you will be rewarded with lavish plot lines, beloved characters, stories within stories, and the occasional Studebaker. Please feel free to read and review, just don't comment on the slow nature of the story, I am designing it deliberately to be that way. But all other constructive criticism is welcome.

Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing except for Brita, David, Jill, Gran, Mrs. Harner and Wendell and a few other odd characters. The rest belongs to DC, I make no money off of any of this.

**Author's Warning: I would like to a moment to warn my readers that this story is not a light walk in the park. It is, in fact, one of the hardest things I have ever written. In this story I discuss a variety of adult themes in varying degrees of graphic description, from violence to drugs to sexual themes and course language, among a number of other rather harsh historic realities and depravities. This story is not for the weak stomached. The especially graphic chapters are marked for your discretion.**

Please note that anything written in italics is present tense.

_Sitting in my cave overlooking the North Sea, I clutch a letter in my hands and bear my face against the salty winds, listening to the waves crash against the cliff face below. I was aware of my daughter watching me intently, wondering what the strange missive from Arkham Asylum bore._

_Arkham, Gotham, all of that seemed lifetimes behind me. After I had gotten pregnant with Enna, well, I'm getting ahead of myself._

_"Mama, what does it say? What does Arkham want with you?" My daughter asks in confusion and I turn my head, staring at my child. She has my wild dark curly hair, my grandmothers figure, and my mothers face, but her eyes, her eyes are her father's eyes._

_Her father._

_How long has it been since I thought of him? Years? Months? Days? Hours? To tell the truth, I had begun to think of myself as Enna's father, her mother, her brother and her sister. Despite her upbringing in our tiny fishing village on __Eysturoy__ in the Faroe Islands, my daughter sought out her education before getting a scholarship to go and study at a boarding school in Gotham City. It was after I saw my 15 year old daughter off in Edinburgh that I retreated quietly to the caves on Mykines to live out my days._

_"Mama, you're thirty four, far too young to live out your days here," Enna points out sensibly. She has always been infuriatingly rational._

_"This is my story, I don't have to make sense," I reply blithely._

_"Well go on then, tell me how it all started," Enna urges, snuggling under her tartan woolen by the fire._

_"I was born in America," I begin._

_"No no, not your ultimate beginning," my daughter says, exasperated._

_"Your ultimate beginning isn't where the story starts either," I reply, just as exasperated. "Fine, I shall pick a point and begin my story."_

_"Fine," Enna replies, waiting for me to settle myself by the fire beneath my own woolen._

I grew up in an apartment building in Gotham City, down in the Narrows. My grandmother was raising me by that point, my mother long since passed away from a consumption.

_"No one gets consumptions anymore," Enna says._

_"Be quiet, this is my story, I will tell it how I choose," I reply. "Anyway."_

Above us lived a boy who was a year older than me, his name was Jack. He lived with his father who was a terrible alcoholic. So Jack would often climb down the fire escape and spend time with me and Gran. At night Gran and I would lie awake in her full sized bed, which we shared, staring at the ceiling and listening to Mr. Napier yelling at Jack while he screamed and cried.

To distract me Gran would tell me long, winding folk stories from the Faroe Islands, where she was from, and where I have come back to. Our ancestral home.

In the mornings Jack would sheepishly come down the fire escape and together we would set off for school through the Narrows. We grew up together. I got drunk for the first time with Jack. Had all my bad girl moments with him. From the sideways pony tails to wearing my watermelon lip balm around my neck. He saw it all.

One summer night when I was 13 and he was 14, we were running through the park down by the river, drunk on life when he drew me into his arms and kissed me lavishly, hungrily on the lips and told me that someday he'd give me the world on a silver platter. This was before all the ugliness started you see.

Gran and I were lying in bed together one friday night when I was 16 listening to Jack and his father screaming at each other. More like Jack's father screamed cruel words and Jack could be heard crying. And then, out of no where came a terrible crash and an eery silence. Well, Gran and I were up, she was dialing the police while I climbed through the window onto the fire escape in my night shirt. It was such a hot steamy night the idea of wearing even that seemed unbearable. The metal rungs felt warm and slightly greasy beneath my bare feet as I climbed up the ladder to Jack's living room window.

Heaving it open the smell of blood hit me like a punch in the face and there was Jack standing over him with an old black and white portable television. It's formica casing was cracked and the bunny ears hung sadly from the box. But Jack just stood and stared down at the blood pooling around his father's head. He looked like he was in shock, and I believed it. I had spent my entire life listening to Jack's father screaming at his mother before she took her life and he turned on his son.

Then Jack saw me, a wild desperate panicked look in his eyes and he begged me silently to tell him what to do. But by then it was too late. The police burst in, and that was the last night I ever saw Jack. Later it was deemed that he killed his father in self defense, and Jack was put into foster care, lost to me and Gran forever.

I went into my senior year of high school, I had a boyfriend. David. He was sweet, loved music, believed in Santa Claus. He loved his mother. It was a bizarre combination, and Gran would often laugh at me. Especially when he followed me home from school, sitting out on the fire escape drinking chocolate milk with one of those neon crazy straws, chattering on about "Dr. Who" and that bizarre man who dressed up like a bat and tried to clean up Gotham.

_"Batman?" Enna asks, gazing at me out of her father's eyes._

_Batman. There's another name I hadn't thought of in days or months or years or hours._

_"I met him once," I say, remembering that bizarre night._

_"Is he my father?" Enna insists._

_"Yes," I say._

_"Really?"_

_"He could have been, now be quiet."_

Life went on, with my blissfully lethargic boyfriend and my overly amused grandmother. When I was 18 David and I moved into an apartment together, a small one bedroom apartment that always smelled of curry and pot and started university together. David studied history, I studied music. I worked in a music shop on Hembleton, David smoked pot all day with his friend Wendell and never seemed to make it to class. I thought it was a miracle they hadn't been thrown out of the university. They didn't think much of anything.

Well it was a particularly windy Friday night when I was heading home from work when all of the street lamps on my little corner of Gotham all blacked out at once, and I stood there, stupidly in the dark wondering what to do next. Hearing a crunching of glass on the asphalt behind me, I took off at once, plunging even deeper into the darkness and wondering if maybe I should have followed David's cryptic advice upon leaving the house this morning and "brought the herring". At least then I would have something with which to fend off my enshrouded companion.

And then I ran into a wall. It was a warm wall, soft, but also hard. It slowly dawned on me that it was a person. Before I could back away, a hand snaked out and latched onto my wrist in an iron grip, dragging me back against that bizarrely comforting wall.

"Hello Brita," the voice hissssssed. It sounded darkly familiar.

"Jack?" I whispered hopefully.

"Jack died a long time ago Dollface, my name is Joker," he replied. "Now it's time to go."

I had been two blocks from the apartment when he whisked me off into the darker recesses of the Narrows, down a warren of streets, courtyards, abandoned houses, even an opium den. He never stopped, never slowed down. And the entire time I was following him I couldn't help but stare at him, at how different he had become from the boy who had been such an intimate part of my life.

We slowed in a narrow alley between two buildings, a single lightbulb hung sadly from a light fixture overhead and moths fluttered around it in a trance. I had only seconds to grasp the jarring white black and red make up on his face, only seconds (although it seemed like a lifetime) to come to terms with the hideous scars around his mouth, before he kissed me, deep and hot and hard and I felt a familiar tug between my thighs and relaxed into the kiss, feeling for the first time since he dragged me away from the comforting mass of David that somewhere inside of the Joker was the Jack I had once known.

"I told you I'd give you the world Brita, and I meant it," he said with a scarred smile and then pulled me after him. I had trouble keeping up in my sweater clogs but we finally made it to a seedy old apartment building that had no real residents, just squatters and cheap hookers with their johns. Leading me up flight after flight of stairs I gasped with the exertion and struggled to keep up with him until we arrived on the final landing and I fell to the dusty wood floor, leaning my head against the banister.

"We're almost there," he said almost nervously, wrenching my arm painfully as he pulled me to my feet and over to a door. Opening it he pushed me inside and locked it behind him. The dark wood wainscoting was dirty and the hideous green paisley wallpaper was stained from age and peeling. Through an arch to one side I could see a clean kitchen and Jack-I mean Joker, prodded me down the hall and into the bedroom. The bed was new and had deep purple sheets with an acid green comforter on top of the bed. Through one door I could see a bathroom.

"This is lovely Joker, but I need to get home, David needs me to make dinner and then I have to work on my concerto," I said, turning around to face him.

"Aah yes, David. Your boyfriend," he sneered. "I thought you had better taste than that Brita."

"Oh? And where were you?" I snapped right back. "Jesus, we were supposed to get drunk together, take over the world, lose ten grand in Vegas! And then you get off for what you did to your father and you vanished. Where were you?"

"You needed to stay with Gran, you needed each other. But now things are different." The Joker crowed loudly.

"You don't need me anymore either. David needs me!" I exclaimed loudly. "The boy can't cook, can't clean, barely makes it to class."

"Well um, wouldn't it be kinder to let him learn how to take care of himself? What happened to you Brita? You're disgusting. And what about Gran? Where is she?" He pushed, yelling back at me.

"She doesn't remember who I am!" I screamed back, angry tears slipping down my cheeks.

"What?" He asked, clearly prepared for anything but this.

"Gran's on hospice care Jack-" I started, but he broke in, smacking me hard across the face. I tasted blood as I fell back against the mattress.

"_**DO NOT CALL ME JACK!**_" He shouted, licking his lips nervously. "The name's Joker sweetlips."

"Okay Joker, ok," I said shakily, trying to think through my swimming head. "Gran has Alzheimer's, she thinks I'm her daughter, my mom. And I saw her yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. Please don't peg me as a bad person for having a job and class in the same day. It's exhausting doing it all by myself."

"Then-ah-let me help take some of the burden," he said. I wanted desperately to believe him, but instinct warned me to be cautious. So I shook my head from where it was cradled in my hands.

"Maybe you don't understand Brita. But you belong to me now. Now, I'm not entirely unreasonable, I'm willing to let you run free, but not tonight. Tonight you'll stay here with me," he said, backing towards the door and locking it. I watched in horror as he came closer, pulling me to my feet and ripping off my clothes until I stood naked in the chilly bedroom. Then he slammed me back into the bed and began carving into the back of my neck, a cut that made me see stars and gasp as my hot, wet, sticky blood welled up in angry defense.

His weight was heavy and absolute against my slight strength and despite my best efforts, I couldn't dislodge him. After the cut though I faded in and out. Time slowed to a stand still. And then the world went dark


	2. Chapter 2

_Walking along the water's edge I can feel Enna watching me closely. The truth is she doesn't know what to expect from my story. I like keeping her on her toes. A fog is rolling in from the North Sea, and soon the island will be coated in thick Viking clouds._

_"Mama," Enna calls. "Is my father the Joker?"_

_"Keep this up and your father will be Newt Gingrich," I say back to her through the fog._

_"You can't change the facts, my father is my father," Enna replies._

_"Biology is absolute, but the story, the story defines us. Why shouldn't we be able to tell our stories as we see fit?" I question, disappearing into the fog._

When I awoke I was alone in the apartment. My clothes were neatly folded on a chair by the bed; on top of them was a note. Opening the cheap stationary page, I read the letter, feeling strangely odd. This is what it said:

**You have until Saturday to get your affairs in order and report to the address below. Should you fail to comply I will not be happy.**

Saturday was three days from now.

I read the note again before sighing and pulling on my clothes. Taking my bag I left the apartment and made my way haphazardly down the stairs and out the door of the derelict apartment building.

When I arrived back at the house, David looked up at me miserably.

"Where have you been?" He asked apathetically. "I was hungry."

"You could have made something, or gone out," I pointed out reasonably enough.

"Too much effort."

Suppressing a sigh, I lifted my hand to the back of my neck, a gesture that I always made when I was exasperated and then stiffened for a moment when my fingers brushed the bandage.

"Well make an effort," I said and David gave me a hurt look.

Dropping my bag onto the floor I went into the bathroom and shut the door. What if I left David? I pondered as I turned on the shower and got undressed. Sitting on the cool toilet lid while the water heated up I thought about the thrill of danger and possibility I had felt when I was with Jack-Joker-whatever. And then I thought about David, about the millions of conversations we had had just like that one. I couldn't remember a time David had ever made me feel so alive. What would happen if David proposed to me? Would we get married? Would we have children? Would I spend the rest of my life taking care of a lethargic man and his equally lethargic children? What a concept.

Climbing under the water I leaned my head against the warm tiles for a moment in an effort to collect myself before I lathered up my hair and scrubbed my person down.

When I finished I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a bowl of cereal and ate it while sitting thoughtfully on the countertop. When I finished, I decided to get dressed and go see Gran.

Hopping off the counter I put my bowl in the sink and went to get dressed. Pulling on clean jeans and a t-shirt, I pulled my hoodie over my head and, grabbing my bag, left the apartment and went to the railway that would take me to her hospice care.

Half an hour later found me on the steps of her new residence, and I let myself inside, greeting the receptionist before going back to see Gran. She sat in a rocking chair by the window in her nightgown, the light blazoning her crown of fluffy bird's nest hair.

"Hello Gran," I said with a warm smile, and she looked up at me in confusion for a moment before recognition dawned on her face.

"Brita! Oh so good of you to come and see me!" She crowed with happiness. It always made me smile when Gran was lucid, made me feel like things were normal again. Leaning down I kissed her on the mouth and sat down on the ottoman.

"You'll never guess who I ran into last night," I said teasingly. "Jack Napier. All grown up."

"Oh, that boy, how is he?" Gran asked, her China blue eyes shining brightly.

"He's good, he asked about you and said to send his regards," I said. "He asked me to move in with him."

"And leave David? My my, what will I do for entertainment," she mused, a smile playing on her lips. "Well kiddo, I can't tell you what to do, but if it were up to me I'd leave that lump of a couch potato and go after the real zinger. He is your first love after all."

"Gran!" I exclaimed in shock.

"It's true, I know all about your first kiss with him, Mr. Jones saw the two of you in the park that night," she replied. Mr Jones was a retired cop had lived down the hall from us at our old apartment building.

"My my, you've got intelligence all over Gotham," I teased.

At that moment a woman knocked on the door. "Mrs. Gunnarsdotter, have you seen my knitting?"

"Of course Mrs. Harner, you left it in the sitting room. This is my granddaughter Brita Sigrunardóttir," Gran replied.

"Brita what?" Mrs Harner asked politely, rustling forward in her blue flowered dress. Her iron grey hair was done up in a severe bun at the back of her head.

"Sigrunardóttir, it's Faroe," Gran explained proudly. "Brita was given her father's surname."

"Very nice, very nice," Mrs. Harner said.

"I feel like getting out of here, mind if I come with you sweets?" Gran asked me, smiling at me benevolently.

"Sure Gran, come on," I said, climbing to my feet.

"Can I come?" Mrs. Harner asked hopefully.

"Of course," Gran said. "The more the merrier."

Pretty soon we were all standing on the train platform, I had intended to take them back to the house to putter around. Maybe they would clean while I worked on my concerto. When we got on the train my friend Jill was sitting there studying a book of sheet music, and she looked up at us as we settled in around her.

"Hi Jill," I said with a smile. "This is Gran and Mrs. Harner."

"Hello," she said affectionately. Jill loved the elderly.

"Where are you off to today?" I asked her happily.

"I was going to go and visit my grandfather at Wayne Manor, I needed to get out of the apartment. Would you like to come?" Jill asked, smiling at my two charges. Jill's grandfather worked as Mr. Wayne's butler, a proper English gentlemen, Jill's family had come over from England to America when she was a baby to be with her grandfather. Her own family, having returned to England, left her living in an apartment with 4 people sharing two bedrooms where she lived in a constant state of bickering whenever she attempted to practice the cello.

"Sure, beats going home," I said, pulling the score out of her hands and looking at it with interest. Jill was one of the most talented and provocative musicians I knew, and she was the only reason I passed my advanced music theory courses.

The train ride out to Wayne Manor was pleasant and uneventful and Gran and Mrs. Harner spent much of the time playing 'I Spy' while Jill and I stared in writers block at my concerto, which I carried around in my purse with me like a badge of honor. As though my reputation as a pianist would ever be called into question. I could imagine a criminal of some sort holding a gun to my head, demanding that I play Rachmaninov's third piano concerto or else.

When we arrived in the greener pastures of outer Gotham, we trekked the last half mile to Wayne Manor where we slogged through the wet grass and up to the kitchen door where a tall benevolent English gentleman invited us in and served us tea in the kitchen. He delighted in my two charges and fed me and Jill before pushing us out of the kitchen and into a little used music room with an amazingly in-tune piano and an old cello that had seen better days.

We listened to Alfred and the women chatting in the kitchen while we worked on our music, perking up at the joining of a fourth voice for a moment before it dawned on me that the infamous Bruce Wayne had joined the conversation. Grinning at each other, Jill and I continued playing until Alfred came to the door looking worried.

"Miss Sig-Miss Brita, your grandmother is having some difficulty, would you please come into the kitchen for a moment?" He asked nervously as my heart dropped into my stomach.

"Of course," I said, shoving my concerto into my purse and slinging it over my chest. I hustled into the kitchen with Jill close on my heels and stopped.

"Elspeth, where are we?" Gran asked, looking up at me in confusion. I managed to suppress my wince, but not enough for Mr. Wayne to miss it and he gave me a concerned look.

"Mom," I said hesitantly. "You came with Jill and I to Mr. Wayne's house."

"Yes, that's right, so you kids could have a play date," Gran said.

"Yes Mom," I said sadly. "A play date. But I think I'd like to go home now and take a nap, I'm tired. Why don't you get your coat on?"

After Alfred, Mrs Harner and Gran left the room I slumped down in a kitchen chair, exhausted.

"Elspeth was my mother's name," I said by way of explanation. "Gran has Alzheimer's. She's not always lucid, and when she's not, she thinks I'm my mother. I'm Brita, by the way."

"I'm Bruce, it's nice to meet you," he said. "Perhaps I could give you all a ride back to your home."

"That would be lovely, Gran should go back to hospice before she gets any worse," I said wearily.

The drive back into Gotham was dull and grey and Mr. Wayne deposited us on the steps to Gran's hospice, wishing us a good day before driving off on his own business.

"Well then," Mrs. Harner said, tugging at Gran's sleeve. "Come along dear."

Jill and I watched them disappear inside the hospice center before we turned and looked at one another.

"Can I come home with you?" Jill asked hopefully.

"Sure," I responded as we walked towards the railway.

_"Are you ever going to get to my father?" Enna demands impatiently._

_"I'm setting the scene. You need to know happened before so you can understand and appreciate what came after," I reply benignly._

_"After what?" Enna insists, but I just smile cryptically at her and wander out of our sea cave, following the narrow path around the cliff face and down to the beach where the waves crash onto the shore. A storm is coming. We'll have to move deeper into the cave to stay warm._

_After a little while Enna joins me on the beach and together we collect wood, drift and otherwise, in an effort to prepare for the storm ahead._

_When we have enough, we carry it all back to the cave, putting the wood at the back, well away from the mouth of the cave to keep it dry, and move the bedding and water bottles and other necessities until we are settled around a warm fire whose smoke stretches up to a natural chimney in the stone._

_We doze on and off, taking time to cook dinner, scrambled eggs and toast, we eat in companionable silence as the wind outside picks up and rain begins to fall in angry droplets, thick and unrelenting, but we are safely tucked away from harm._

_"Go on," Enna finally says. I am growing weary of her insistence._

When we arrived back at the house, David is missing and Jill and I collapse on the couch. I land on the crumpled paper the Joker had left me and I pull it out of my pocket to look at it.

"What's that?" Jill asked, more out of need for something to do than genuine curiosity.

"It's a note from a friend. He wants me to leave David and run away with him," I replied, staring it with interest before shoving it back in my jeans pocket.

"What?" Jill exclaimed. "Someone other than David? Brit you gotta take this chance, I'm not letting you run away from this."

"It is a once in a lifetime opportunity," I conceded. "But if I take it I'm afraid I won't be able to finish my degree. College is kind of a big deal in my family. I'm going to be the first to get a degree. My grandparents came here with twenty dollars in their pocket. Gran would beat me if she knew I was thinking about throwing it all away."

"Sometimes you need to do what's best for you. For all you know you're meant for greater things than an unfinished piano concerto and a boyfriend whose convinced sock gnomes are real," Jill pointed out.

"True," I murmured, still uncertain as the phone rang. "I dunno."

Picking up the avocado receiver from the cradle, I held the old phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"I'm going to be running late tonight, might not make it home at all," David called down the line and I swore I heard a girl giggle.

"Whatever you say David," I sighed and hung up the phone. "David has never called to say he was running late before."

"Did you hear a girl giggle in the background?" Jill asked and I gave her a look.

"Does David spend much time with giggling girls?" I asked, playing with the rotary dial on the old phone.

"I'm not sure," she said, confused and uncertain as to where that bit of information had come from. "Well I need to be off, I have to practice for my practicum on Friday."

"Good luck," I said, seeing her off at the door. Finally alone I decided to make the most of it and work on my concerto. I spent four hours in the fading light until I had another movement written and was feeling considerably better.

Wondering what to do next I pulled on a skirt and a white linen shirt and bound my abundance of dark hair up into a messy bun before grabbing my purse and shoving my feet into my flip flops. I made a bee-line for Gotham's river side park and when I arrived it was rife with people out and about in the warm evening air. I danced along, drunk on the feeling of accomplishment and life and remembering the night Jack had given me my first kiss standing on a park bench under the full moon.

I stopped and looked around me, suddenly uneasy and couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me until I crashed head long into Mr. French, my pedagogy teacher. Mr. French was a portly man with the biggest, bushiest mustache ever, but was otherwise as bald as an egg. His wife was thirty years his junior, a bony birdish looking woman, and they had a clutch of tawny haired boys who looked like choir boys and were about as saintly.

"Ah, Brita, I was planning on calling you. Would you be able to babysit for us tomorrow night? We've a concert to attend," Mr. French asked from behind his mustache.

"Of course Mr. French, what time do you need me there?" I asked him, smiling at his nervous wife. I once made the mistake of calling her Mrs. French, she went deathly white, as though she avoided admitting to her marriage, and asked me to call her Georgia.

"7:30 will be fine," Mr. French replied.

"Great," I said. "See you tomorrow."

As the pair walked away I was struck again by that horrible feeling of being watched and I turned out of the park, heading towards the antique music store I like to peruse. I felt better once I had disappeared inside the stacks, looking through ancient scores of sheet music, smiling as I hummed along to a trill. I was towards the back of the shop, out of the sight of the shop keeper and I sensed more than saw a man come up and grab me from behind, pulling me deeper into the stacks before pressing me firmly against a bookshelf, the soft spines of aged sheet music bending under my weight.

I stared up into the Joker's bare face, his scars even more apparent, but far more sublime without the makeup covering them.

"Well?" He asked in a slightly nervous voice.

"I-," I gasped from the pain as my back was pushing into the hard shelves as his hands tightened on my shoulders hard enough to bruise. "I got your note."

"And?" He asked, staring down at me out of coal-dark eyes.

I shuddered under his scrutiny, trying hard to ignore the rolling warmth between my thighs. "I'm thinking about it."

Before I could catch my breath he pressed a hand against my throat, cutting off the air before he kissed me, deeply and savagely and I had to grab him to keep myself standing. My blood sang in my veins and my womb warmed in response to his attentions as my lungs began to scream for air. Had David ever made me feel this way? Had I ever wanted him this badly?

When he pulled away and forced me to catch my breath and support my weight I studied him out of hooded eyes.

"Put that in the equation when you're figuring out what to do," he said darkly.

"I-okay," I said stupidly, surprised at the note of idiocy I heard. Was this what teenage boys felt when they discovered their bodies for the first time? The fear and arousal were creating a heady combination and I slumped there, afraid for my life and strangely desperate for more.

"Well-um, I've never been one to play fair when there's something I want. Make's life more interesting," he crooned. "See ya soon Dollface."

Before I could say anything he dissolved and I looked around in wonder, trying to figure out what had just happened


	3. Chapter 3

_We are alone in our rain swept corner of Mykines. We sleep cuddled together under the blankets for warmth. For days now it has rained almost nonstop. I've grown weary of Enna's badgering. Part of me wishes she had mailed the letter instead of coming. But she's right, it's time she learns who her father is. It's better here, now, instead of there, where things will be too complicated by circumstance._

When I returned to the apartment David still hadn't returned, and I crawled into bed, smiling as I pulled the purple sheets up over my pajama'd body and slipped away into a dreamland.

I woke up and I was still alone in the unusually quiet apartment. Shaking my head at the feeling of waking up to silence, I stretched my way into the shower and some clothes before heading off to class.

As I approached Gotham U. I saw Jill talking with Hayden, a boy who, unfortunately was both overweight with terrible skin, and played the flute. He favored music from movies and video games, but did not know how to play the piano, so more often than not we were subjected to flute renditions of the "Indiana Jones" theme song. I walked past them into the small music room and settled myself at my usual piano, an old Steinway upright and began playing to pass the time. I lost myself in the music, letting it lift me up and bring me down, playing louder and louder until Miss Bennett had to smack the top of my piano and scream at me to pipe down.

For the next two hours she prattled on while we attempted to play as a cohesive whole some of the most tedious and uninventive music ever written and by the time we were done we headed towards the door feeling more like liquids than the solid people we actually were.

I slumped off towards work my quiet out of the way music shop where I spent the next six hours sitting at the register reading the trade papers and trying to count the holes in the styrofoam ceiling tiles. Then it was off to the French's.

When I arrived at their house in Robbinsville night was falling and I rang the bell. Georgia answered the door with her hair in curlers and her brassiere poking out of her flannel bathrobe.

"Come in, come in," she crooned, and I followed her into their house. It was a narrow house, in a row of narrow houses, although this one was packed full of obscure and seemingly useless musical paraphernalia. One night I had spent three hours amusing myself by playing the theremin, and woke up with a tremendous headache the next day.

I walked into their living room where their three boys were gathered around an old black and white television, the kind set in a wood cabinet, and I wondered where they got new tubes for the ancient television. I sat down on the sofa and dropped my bag by my feet.

Daisy, their hideously obese rottweiller looked me out of soulful milky eyes and put his head in my lap. I feared his near blindness was the result of being emasculated by the name Daisy. I watched Looney Tunes with the boys until the Frenchs' hustled into the over stuffed living room. Georgia was replete in hoop skirt and pearls, and Mr. French looked quite dapper in his suit.

"We'll be back around midnight Brita, boys, be good," Georgia said. "Oh, and help yourself to anything in the fridge."

A likely story. Anything in the fridge was liable to be carrying the plague, or flesh eating bacteria. The inside of that refrigerator was probably violating every rule about cleanliness I was taught since childhood. And I wondered idly how her boys had escaped food poisoning all these years. Perhaps the Frenchs' had stronger constitutions that I gave them credit for.

Around 7, I peeled myself off the sofa and went to investigate the cupboards for anything that might pass as dinner. After a bit of rooting around, I uncovered some boxed mac and cheese and I pulled it out, figuring it was the least likely food item in the house to give us all dysentery. Heating water in a pot, I went to investigate my concerto on a surprisingly dusty and out of tune piano. I clanged good-naturedly through the first movement and into the second, pausing now and again to adjust the timing. When the boys came to tell me the water was boiling, I dumped the pasta into the pot and stirred it absentmindedly, humming tunelessly until the phone rang.

Shrugging, I plucked it off the receiver. "French residence," I said brightly.

Nothing on the other end of the line but laughter.

"Hello? Who is this? Hello?" I asked, and then the line went dead.

Shrugging, I hung up the phone and went to drain the pasta.

The four of us ate quietly at the kitchen table, and after dinner, we all collapsed on the living room floor and played 'the game of life' until the phone rang again.

"Hallo, French residence," I said good-naturedly into the receiver.

Laughter, loud and insistent rang over the line, and I got angry.

"This isn't funny," I said hotly and hung up the phone.

"Who was that?" Chip asked wide-eyed. The dice all but forgotten in his hand.

"No one, just some weirdo," I said, shrugging it off and returning to the game.

After I had put the boys to bed, I sat down on the old beat up sofa with Daisy's head in my lap and turned on the news.

I must've dozed off because the next thing I knew I was startled awake by the phone ringing. I was wary about answering it, and stared at the black phone thoughtfully. If it was the French's, they'd wonder why I wasn't picking up. If it was the laughing guy, well, this was Gotham. It was practically run by crazies, look at Harvey Dent. My desire to get paid overran my curiosity and I picked it up warily.

"Hello? French residence," I said, bracing myself.

"Hello? Brita, it's Georgia dear. We're running late and won't be back until 1, 2 at the latest, I hope that's alright," Georgia called down the line and I could hear the music and laughter coming from the Iceberg Lounge in the background.

So much for my after babysitting cocktail. "No worries, the boys are in bed. See you when you get in," I said, and hung up the phone. I was about to turn the volume back up on the television when I heard a scraping outside, like metal on cement and I looked out the front windows to see a man coming down the street. A huge heavy blade in one hand. He seemed to be staring at the French's house, and I grabbed my phone from my bag, my head skipping a beat I dialed 9-1-1.

"Hi, I'd like to report a home invasion. A man with an enormous knife is heading for the house I'm babysitting at. There are three 6 year old boys upstairs asleep and I'm here alone with them," I breathed, crouching under the window.

"Alright, what's the address?" Asked the operator.

I gave it to her. "Please hurry, he's heading up the stoop. The doors are locked, but this guy is covered in scars and that doesn't look like it'll stop him."

"Police are being dispatched immediately, go upstairs and stay with the boys. Go into the bathroom and lock the door," she said. "I want you to stay on the phone with me until the police arrive."

"Okay," I murmured, creeping away from the door, I took my purse with me and pulled an umbrella out of a stand that bore a remarkable resemblance to an elephant's foot. I crept up the stairs and down the hall into the boy's room.

"Chip? Get up sweety, shh, be quiet. Everything's okay, I need you to come with me," I whispered. "Todd, Damien, get up, we're gonna go and sit in the bathroom for a little while. Take your teddy bear, and your blanket, hurry and stay quiet."

I ushered them silently down the hall and into the bathroom where I closed the door. Downstairs I could hear scratching at the locks on the door and I closed the bathroom door and slid the lock home. Tucking the boys into the bathtub I wrapped them in blankets and gave them their stuffed animals.

"Now you boys be real quiet, no talking. Just try to sleep, it's gonna be okay as long as you stay quiet," I soothed.

"What's going on?" Asked the operator.

"Scratching at the door," I murmured, and then bit my lip as the door splintered and crashed, and the boys made worried noises. "Someone bad is trying to get into the house, but he won't hurt you as long as you keep quiet."

I could feel three sets of enormous blue eyes clamped onto the back of my head in the dark as I turned to face the door. My bag was tucked into the tub with the boys, and I clutched the umbrella tightly in my hands. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as the tense seconds ticked by.

In the distance I could hear the blare of sirens, but they seemed too far as the unfamiliar creak on the stairs seemed to scream through the house. Tense seconds ticked by and I put my back against the wall next to the door. I tightened my grip on the umbrella and bit back a moan as the door knob turned and the lock met the wall of the door frame. The scratching began again, this time more intense, and I motioned to the boys to keep quiet. They hunkered further down in the tub, out of immediate sight. I wished I could climbed in with them, but instead I held my post. The wood splintered and fractured and the sound of the sirens came closer and closer to the house.

Abruptly the scratching stopped, and I could hear footsteps retreating towards the stairs and suddenly a feeling of maternal rage gripped me and I found myself turning towards the door.

"Oh no you don't," I muttered, dropping the phone onto the tile floor, I ripped open the door and saw a bald-headed figure in the dim light. I chucked my umbrella at the back of his head, but it hit the wall and missed, clattering with terrible silence to the floor below.

I suddenly found myself feeling very small as I gazed into the horrible gaping maw of my error.

The bald man turn slowly and stared at me. He was covered, COVERED in scars, all over his neck and face and scalp and arms and hands that was five score tick marks. A slow smile spread over his face as he turned towards me on the stairs. I turned, instinctively heading for the bathroom but he caught me by my hair and pulled me backwards onto the floor. I blindly groped to block the knife inevitably reaching for my throat.

The knife bit into my hand and I let out a scream. Tears fell down my cheeks as warm blood pooled in the palm of my hand. The sirens were close, very close, almost here. I flailed wildly, trying to get away but I couldn't break out of his grip. I brought up one leg and managed to get in a kick solid enough that I could get away as the doors downstairs open and four police officers burst into the house and ran up the stairs. I collapsed against the wall next to the bathroom door, clutching my hand to my stomach I stared at the officers in shock. The boys gathered around me and Todd handed me a towel for my hand. I gathered them under my good arm and hand, and we sat there, watching them take away the scarred man.

After another moment I became aware of a man trying to get my attention. He had brown hair and a push broom mustache. He wore a brown jacket and square framed glasses. Squatting down he handed me a steaming paper cup of coffee.

"Hi there, I'm Officer Gordon," he said gently. "Can you tell me your name?"

I looked at him blankly and then down at the boys.

"Her name is Brita," Chip piped up helpfully.

"You boys okay?" Gordon asked them, and they nodded dutifully.

"Brita told us to get in the bathtub and be quiet," Damien said solemnly. "So we were, and then Brita fought the bad guy."

"Boys? Boys!" Georgia French's shriek rang through the stale air and we all looked up at her in confusion. "Oh my boys, are you alright?"

"Yes Mama, we're fine," they chirruped.

"Your babysitter saved their lives," Gordon said solemnly.

My hand ached and my head lolled back against the wall. Georgia shoved a multitude of twenties into my good hand and even handed me my cell phone from where it had fallen when I dropped it.

"We need to get you to the hospital and get your hand stitched up," Gordon said gently.

Todd went into the bathroom and pulled my bag out of the tub. He handed it to me wordlessly and I nodded at him, smiling gently as I was led away.

An ambulance sat out front and one of the paramedics wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. She cleaned my hand and wrapped it in gauze. Gordon drove with me to the hospital, and when we got there, a fuss was made as word travelled quickly of my unlikely success. When my hand was bandaged, Gordon took me back to the station to give my statement.

So I told him everything. I told him about the laughing on the phone, and the scratching at the door and my call to 9-1-1. I explained about the bathroom and the umbrella that lead to the deep cut on my hand. By the time I was done it was almost 2 in the morning, and I just wanted to go to bed.

Gordon himself drove me home, clucking in a fatherly tone about me living in the Narrows, and I dragged myself up the stairs to bed where I found David and Wendell playing "Space Invaders" on an old Atari set.

"Where have you been?" I asked David.

"Clockholme," he replied distractedly.

"Clockholme? What the hell's in Clockholme?" I demanded, in pain and angry at the thought of the giggling girl.

"Yeah, me and Wendell went out to see Jack, Harry, and Harriet," he said by way of defense. They were friend's of ours from our respective programs. They lived together in an old fishing factory and commuted into the city for school. It did not, however, answer the question of the giggling girl. Harriet, along with her twin brother Harry (their parents were apparently cruel), were a militant pair who weren't exactly known for their senses of humor.

"I see," I said, even though I didn't, and decided to make some toast and get some sleep.

I woke up with David's comforting mass pressed against my backside. Warm and soft like rising bread dough. It was Friday, and I wondered how I managed to get a free day in my schedule. Lying there listening to David snore I thought about the Joker's offer. Perhaps I would leave it to fate. Unless we are in control of our own fates, in which case I had to make the right choice.

Do I stay or do I go? Do I live or do I stagnate?

The doorbell rang insistently and I went to go and see who it was. But when I got to the door, no one was there, just a note pinned to our peeling front door. Taking it off I flipped it open.

**Tick tock, tick tock -J**

Well. That was comforting. Then I noticed the slip of paper that had fallen off from beneath the note. It was a flier for a party and when I mentioned it to David he said that all of Gotham U. was going to be there. Unsure about how valid that claim was I wandered off to take some ibuprophen and get dressed.

Jill and I spent the afternoon wandering through Gotham, trying to decide what the note meant and wondering if we really wanted to go to this party when we rounded a corner and found ourselves not 8 feet from where David was standing with a slight red head clutching a history book and maintaining a look of intense interest at something David was saying. David, for his part, looked interested and focussed and, dare I say it, attracted to her. Had we ever been that way?

"Jill, let's go to that party tonight," I said from where we stood, watching them flirt with one another.

"Yeah, alright," Jill replied, sounding like she wanted popcorn if we were going to stand here and watch the car wreck that was swiftly becoming my relationship with David


	4. Chapter 4

When I got home that night David was no where to be found, so I made a point of packing an over night bag in case I decided to make my get away after all before pulling on a clean tunic style shirt and some ballet flats. I rewrapped my hand in gauze and when I got downstairs Jill was found crammed in behind the wheel of an enormous Studdebaker with Wendell and Hayden crammed into the back. Climbing in the passenger's side, we took off through Gotham towards the docks where the party was being held in an enormous warehouse.

Music was thumping as we pulled up outside and then we took off for the interior, discovering a dance floor when we first came in, complete with a bar and old couches and mattresses along the walls. At the back, the second half of the warehouse looked like a warren of rooms whose purposes were obscured by the cheap drywall that made them up. We got a drink of something alcoholic and hit the dance floor, letting everything go except the beat of the music.

I don't know how long we danced for, but eventually I needed to use the bathroom, so I wandered off towards the back. There were only a few doors along the back wall which meant that I would have to go into that warren to find the ladies' toilets. I pressed through a room that looked like a library, with book lined walls and deep brown leather couches. At one end was an enormous fireplace where a man reclined nude on a day bed while people in artists' smocks painted his physique before I was deposited in a long mirror hallway, only it looked less like a fun house and more like Versailles and I thought about how unlikely a place this was for such elegance.

I wandered through a stainless steel kitchen where everything was twice as big as it would normally be and made me feel twice as small as I normally was. Sitting against the island table was a puppet who looked suspiciously like the Muppet Swedish Chef and I paused to wonder at it's significance before pressing on.

The hallway I found myself in was in forced perspective, which meant it looked longer than it actually was. I tried a few doors before I found one that was unlocked. Inside was a huge ballroom with heavy drapes pulled across the windows. Torches hung on the walls, casting erratic shadows along the dark wood paneled walls. In front of me was an enormous Rococo mirror covered in a mountain of cocaine and beyond it were naked bodies writhing on the floor in the semi darkness. I thought I caught a glimpse of red hair riding astride a doughy figure before someone told me to either join in or get out.

I chose the latter.

Backing into the hall I ran into Hayden who accompanied me the rest of the way to the bathroom. When we finally did find it I stood and stared at it for a long while. It was an old pull chain toilet that looked like it would fit a small child, not a grown woman, and I felt a little silly squatting down on the minuscule porcelain bowl. After washing my hands I exited the bathroom and paused in the quiet hall, enjoying a moment to myself. Again I found myself confronted by those questions, what do I do about David? I didn't worry that I wouldn't be able to see Gran, I knew in my bones that he would let me see her. But everything else? Sighing I headed back to the dance floor and the comforting bosom of my friends.

As I neared the end of the rabbit warren I heard gunshots and a familiar high pitch voice calling for Brita.

Pushing through the heavy door I strode across the dance floor where everyone was huddled down on the ground.

"Here I am," I called out, checking my watch as I went. "But I've got another twelve hours."

"Not anymore, change of plans dollface, I need you now," he said, snaking an arm around my waist.

"Alright baby, then let's get out of here," I said, putting my hands on his chest and smiling up at him. Hoping it was enough to stop him from hurting the people there.

We walked towards the door together, the silence at our backs was deafening, but the great sucking sound as we walked forward. . . It was like being pulled into the maw of a terrible beast and as I began to quail before it's wrath the Joker turned back to look at me.

"I've got you now Brita, and I'm never going to let you go," he said queerly, from anyone else it would have been a comfort, ten years ago it would have been a comfort coming from him. But he had changed and fear spiked in my gut.

It was raining as we left the warehouse and I climbed into the passenger side of the van. I barely had time to buckle my seatbelt before he took off down the road heading towards Gotham proper.

"Now we gotta a couple things to do before we can retire for the night sweet cheeks, so just sit tight, it'll be over before you know it," he said, glancing over at me as he drove manically through the streets, driving up on the sidewalk to avoid traffic at times. For my part I dug my fingers into the dashboard and hung on for dear life, trying to ignore the pain in my hand that was muted to a dull roar. "Bruce Wayne's annual arts event is going on tonight, and I thought we'd uh, go have some fun."

He pulled up in a posh part of town, near the really swanky shops.

"Now, your dress is in the back of the car, put it on," he said before getting out of the car and striding off purposefully down the street. I sat there staring after him in shock for a full moment before turning to look at the inky pannier that filled up almost the entire floor of the van. Sighing I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off before climbing into the back and pulling on the pannier, struggling with the ties in the semi-darkness. Then I pulled out an equally inky lace and taffeta strapless evening gown with a corset bodice that made my assets shine. I pulled the shoes into my lap since I couldn't get them on back here anyway (I couldn't even reach my feet, how did women ever do that?), and I resolved to wait. I sat in the tissue paper from the box, waiting for Joker to return.

It wasn't long before I saw him walking back towards the van purposefully. Then he climbed in and looked back at me, shoving a cloth bag at me. "Put those on."

I opened the bag and gasped. A diamond necklace glittered brightly even in the darkness. "I can't wear this! Where did these even come from?"

The Joker turned and pulled his gun, placing the cold metal against my temple. "You will wear them, you will do whatever I tell you to do Brita or I will blow you away. Now put up your hair and show off that pretty 'J' I gave you."

I closed my eyes as tears slipped down my cheeks, and I put my hair up with shaking hands, sliding garnet hair pins into my abundant locks to keep them in place. My fingers trembled as I slid the posts of the diamond earrings through my ears. When I put on the necklace I could barely clasp it my hands were shaking so bad. And when I drew them away I felt the weight like a prisoner feels his ball and chain. The bracelets were both garnet cuff bracelets.

'Handcuffs,' I thought mutely. I thought of David, thought of the mysterious red head. If only he could see me now, a debauched maiden in stolen diamonds and finery that would have put the ladies of Louis the XIV's court to shame. What would he say? And more importantly, why did I suddenly want his approval? And why was I letting Jack cow me into submission?

I didn't have time to continue pondering this as we pulled up in front of a defunct apartment building and my childhood friend flicked on the van lights and crawled into the back with me. He slapped a powder puff on my face and decolleté, rending them white as snow. Then he painted a tiny black mouth on my otherwise white lips and lined my eyes with kohl with surprising delicacy before shoving my skirts up and fastening my shoes securely on my feet before climbing out and ringing a buzzer, then he climbed back in. A few minutes later several guys came out and got into a low town car and the two cars set off in tandem for, I assumed, our last stop of the night before bed.

Would the red head be sleeping where I usually slumbered when I got home?

Once again there was no time to speculate as we stopped around the corner from the museum and I had to be physically helped by two of the guys out of the van. I had trouble moving for the first few minutes as I strode purposefully back and forth on the sidewalk trying to get my circulation back.

"Alright, this is how this is gonna work. . .


	5. Chapter 5

_It had stopped raining in the night, but Enna and I show no signs of moving towards the front of the cave. We are in the stormy season, and another one will be along in a day or two. This morning we left our little cave to walk along the beach but never made it quite that far as our little beach was littered with hundreds of walruses sunning themselves. We had stood watching them for hours, their powerfully bodies striking quite a sight on my proverbial front yard._

_Enna and I had wrapped our arms around one another, breathed in the other's scent, and let go of everything for as long as we stood there. But I knew that soon enough she would be pressing me again to keep going with the story. I can't really say if it got better or worse from here on in._

_"Come on Mama, what happened next?" Enna presses, she is too eager for her own good. She doesn't know yet how much the truth will hurt her. For now this is just a story from my past, she is naïve enough to think it doesn't affect her, or if it does, it will be for the better._

I walked into the museum with only the Joker at my side. Walking was awkward in the dress as we approached the great hall where the event was being held. To get onto the floor you had to descend a massive staircase, and as I approached the top step and lifted my skirt as though I was going to descend the stairs when two of the clown masked guys shot out from under my wide skirt and ran down the stairs, screaming at everyone to get down on the floor. Then the Joker held the top of his hand out formally and I placed my hand on top of it as we began our descent. When we reached the parquet dance floor I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across from me. I looked like a Victorian harlequin doll, the diamonds shown brightly and the garnets glittered like droplets of blood, the tight dress bodice and wide skirt only served to accentuate my hourglass figure, and the make-up that covered my naturally pale skin only served to exaggerate my large grey eyes and oval face. My grandmother had said that my coloring (and eventually my daughter's) was an anomaly among our people. Then I looked around me, surveying everyone at my feet.

I felt like I was starting to figure out why the Joker so captivating, but I still couldn't quite grasp it yet. Then he spoke.

"Is Bruce Wayne here? Anyone? Hmm? I wanted to introduce my new bride to him," the Joker said loudly, waving around the knife in his hand. I could see Bruce Wayne across the room, looking from me to the Joker and back again in confusion, and I shot him a sympathetic look. I felt just as confused and lost as he did. Suddenly the idea of running off with my childhood sweetheart was no longer the romantic notion it had been. I had money in my bank account, I could go home, get my bag, and check into a motel until I figured out my next move.

One of my heeled feet moved behind me, and then the other, and before I knew what I was doing I was running up the stairs, flat out sprinting through the halls of the museum, the heels on my shoes clacking madly as I ran, ran for the front door, for the railway, for David's immensely comforting weight.

I don't know if the Joker or any of his men followed me, but I did manage to break free from the museum and down to the street where I hailed a cab and climbed in, screaming at the cabbie to drive drive drive.

I made him take the long way back to my apartment, and then I tipped him twice what it cost to get me there, and then I ran inside my building and up the stairs, up up up until my key was in the locked and I was pushing through the heavy metal door and then I was inside, sliding lock after lock into place before sinking to the ground, my head resting against my forearm as I panted with the exertions of my escape.

I heard a woman's laughter, low and throaty, coming from the back of the apartment where our bedroom was. I knew the red head was in there. I pushed myself wearily to my swollen feet and walked back towards the door. I pushed it open and stared at David and the red headed girl, both lying naked in our bed.

David looked up at me in genuine fear, even the girl looked afraid.

"Get out of my apartment," I hissed.

"I-I'm going," the girl said, already pulling her clothes on.

"You too," I said pointedly to David.

"You can't kick me out-" he started to protest, but I cut him off.

"I have a job David! I pay the rent! You do nothing but get stoned and play video games and and boff red-headed strumpets! Well I'm calling rank boy and I want you out!" I yelled, throwing his pants at him.

Half an hour later both of them were gone and the bed had been stripped and redressed with fresh unmarred sheets.

I sat on the bed in a sea of black taffeta, staring at my diamonds and the harlequin make-up. I knew I should call the police, call Jill, Gran, someone. But all I could do was sit there in silence.

Night turned to day, and then day to night. I could hear the distant street sounds, and ticking of the clock in the living room, and then I began to weep.

I don't know how long I laid there feeling sorry for myself, but eventually I went into the bathroom and drew a bath. I undressed and let the clothes stay where they fell, and crawled into the tub. I pulled the garnet hairpins out, the diamond earrings, necklace, and the bracelets, and placed them carefully on the toilet lid before I began to slowly wash away the events of the last twenty four hours. The water was grey by the time I finished and the water was tepid before I crawled out of the tub and into my bathrobe. I crawled under the blankets in my bed and fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_Enna was starting to get upset. I kept giving her father figures and then taking them away. Although I couldn't really understand her anger, my father was a sea captain who had gotten my mother, a barmaid at the time, pregnant with me. He had never been there, but I'd known he was out there, somewhere, chasing after a leviathan whale or searching for buried treasure._

_"Forget it," Enna says. "I don't even want to know anymore."_

_"It's too late, once a story is started, it must be finished," I reply._

_"Why do you always say that?" Enna demands, frustrated. "This story has no ending. Why are you so wary of telling me who my father is?"_

_"If I don't finish the story then it will grow on it's own into something much worse," I snap. "You're a grown woman, old enough to hear this story. It is your birthright. You're old enough to realize that ichor does not flow in your veins, you are not the child of some mysterious god. Now you wanted to hear this, and I am telling you. Now bite your tongue and listen."_

A few days passed, and David hadn't show up. Eventually I thought better of dealing with him and shoved all of his clothes into a laundry basket and went to push it into the hall. Looking warily through the peephole and seeing no one, I unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to push the basket through when the door slammed back into me, knocking me down.

I barely had time to register the Joker's purple suit before my bare feet were scrambling under me, trying to find purchase as I began a sprint towards my bedroom door. There was a lock on that door, and the fire escape that lead down to the street. I barely cleared the door, and almost had it closed when my progress was arrested. It didn't take much for him to overwhelm me, and he slammed me back into the wall behind the door before slamming it shut. He beat me, savagely, kneeing me in the stomach, punching me before throwing me down on the bed. All I could do was stare up helplessly at him.

"You ran, you ruined my plans Brita. And no one ruins my plans; especially not my girl," he raved, pulling a knife and pressing it to my throat. I whimpered as wet beads of blood welled on my neck.

"See that's the difference between you and me," I rasped. "You expect everyone to bend to your will, but I can never be tamed, never be truly owned. In fact, the only loyalty I can really be relied on to have is to myself Joker. So I'll never submit to you or anyone else in a way that you would want me too. And you can sit there threatening me and cutting me with your knives, but you can never touch my soul baby. You can never own something so intangible; I'll always slip through your fingers like smoke. Now you can put away the knife and relearn the woman you lost, or you can keep threatening me and see how far you get."

I could see the appreciation in his eyes as he put his knife away. "That's my girl."

He pushed himself off of me and I scooted up so that my back rested against the wall.

"David's gone," I said gently, finally saying it out loud for the first time.

"Good, now we can-" He started, but I cut him off.

"No. You have no idea what I've been through in the last week and I am going to sit here quietly in my apartment and try to breath because I honestly have no idea how to do that anymore," I said softly. "You're welcome to stay, but if you choose to leave my door will not be open again for a very long time."

He regarded me for a long moment, watching me sit with my eyes closed as I rode out my own internal storm in it's eye. I heard a rustling, felt his weight leave the bed, heard water running in the bathroom, and some more rustling. A few moments later his weight joined mine on the bed.

"What happened?" He asked gently, taking my hand in his. Such a simple gesture, made all the more intimate by the fact that he wasn't wearing his customary gloves. When I opened my eyes I saw it was even more than that, he was barefoot, and laid back on the bed next to me in his purple pants and white and blue shirt, unbuttoned several buttons revealing the lines of a clean broad chest.

I turned to study him, my dark grey eyes studying his dark brown. I let my eyes freely rove over his face, hungrily devouring the sight of him. I saw him stiffen as I studied his scars, saw him relax when he realized that I could no more reject him than I could stop loving him. There was a time when I could have mapped him if I wanted too. I could remember each distinct turning points for him, at least up until he vanished, a time I was sure I would never hear about.

I heaved a deep breath and told him everything. About all the events that had amassed since he had released me. I told him about visiting with my grandmother and Mrs. Harner, our afternoon at the Wayne Estate, babysitting for the French's, the red headed strumpet, and all the questions I had asked myself. I told him about the party in graphic detail, and what had happened when I returned from the museum to find David in bed with another woman. I told him how I had scared both of them to death, and then I told him how I had bathed myself in my tears when they had gone. About how since then I had sat on my bed, staring into space, wondering what I could possibly do next.

My story took a little over two hours, and by the time I finished the sun was setting and it had begun to rain. I laid in bed while the Joker paced my apartment restlessly, threatening me through the thin walls. I could see him drawing on the walls whenever I went to the bathroom. I ordered in food, but he didn't eat, and in the end, neither did I.

I woke one morning to find him pacing frantically around the apartment. "Come on Brita, it's time to go, time to move on to greener pastures. We've played this game long enough."

"But-" I said, stuttering until he strode up to me and placed his hands firmly on my shoulders.

"I know you want to run free, but you're scared, scared of what might happen," he said, sounding terribly sane. "I promised you once that I would give you the world and I meant it. You to be free Brita, free from all the binds because you really are meant to run wild babe. You've already cut what was holding you back, now you just have to take my hand."

"What about Gran?" I asked desperately.

"You can see her whenever you want Brita. You can do whatever you want, have whatever you want, all you need to do is come with me," he insisted, making it clear that the choice was mine. And it was mine, I had never been more certain of anything than I was of that.

"Let me get my pants," I finally conceded after a long moment.

"That's my girl," the Joker hissed


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: As a part of my major at school I'm required to take lots of art history courses, so I know for a fact that the analysis on paintings I've described herein are accurate. But I still want to thank Marylin Stokstad's art history books for filling in the blanks.

_"So the Joker is my father," Enna says as we walk along the beach._

_"No Enna, the Joker is not your father, it's far more complicated than that," I say, watching confusion bloom on her face._

_"How?" Enna asks, sounding weary and heart sick. I wonder who she left behind in Gotham to come home to me. We wave at a fisherman on his boat in the bay._

_"Because Jack and the Joker are two very different people," I say carefully but truthfully._

_"Well, go on then," Enna says, plopping down on the sand and running it through her fingers. "Tell me what happened next."_

We drove for hours. I'd fall asleep and wake up and we'd still be driving. My overnight bag sat in the backseat, the diamonds and garnets were snuggly wrapped up in a velvet bag. Despite my intention of returning them to the jewelry store, I was more afraid of how Joker would react if he found out I had rejected his gift, no matter how valid the reason. In the trunk was the black dress and pannier. It seemed their role wasn't over yet.

I had a vague notion that we were out on the Gotham bluffs, a neighborhood that overlooked Gotham river and had once been filled with old money. Now it was filled with beautiful decaying mansions that laid neglected and overgrown from decades of human absence.

We pulled up the long drive of a house that was hidden from the road by enormous pine trees. When we reached the house, we climbed out and I got my things from the back of the car. The house was imposing and tall; the sheer weight of the place pressed down on me from where I stood looking up the enormous house. Lightning split the sky for a few moments and lit the house in relief.

"Come on," Jack said, pulling me towards the door.

The entrance hall to the house was dark and eery. Black and red marble floor tiles covered the floor, leading up to a magnificent wrought iron staircase that stretched up into the darkness, the only illumination on the second floor came from an enormous stained glass window depicting Manet's Olympia.

"Charming," I muttered, wondering why the house's previous owner had decided to put a reclining nude of a prostitute receiving gifts from her john in their home.

"What's charming doll?" the Joker asked, returning to my side from locking the door.

"That depiction is by Edouard Manet, it's a reclining nude of a prostitute receiving gifts from her john. See the cat? It's symbolizes infidelity. It was a scandal in it's time, especially since it's mocking Titian's 'Venus of Urbino' which was the first known reclining nude of a woman in it's time, it was done as a wedding portrait," I explained; art history was a passion of mine. "In Titian's painting there was a dog, a symbol of fidelity. And there were two maids, presumed to be packing her wedding chest or dowry."

The Joker was giving me an odd look which took me a moment to notice.

"Sorry, force of habit," I muttered.

"Er, okay, come with me," he said, heading for the stairs in the dark.

I followed him silently through the musty halls until we reached a magnificent bed chamber. Again there were purple sheets and an acid green comforter on the king sized bed. But aside from the hideous choice of bedding, the room was a gem. It was gorgeous walnut paneling from floor to ceiling and the floors were inlaid blonde and dark wood. The bed frame was built into the wall and behind it depicted Bernini's 'El Rapto de Proserpina', and I stopped just inside the door staring at it in awe. It struck me as oddly appropriate.

"Whoever made that copy did an incredible job," I remarked, advancing deeper into the room.

"What do you mean?" he asked from where he stood, in the middle of taking off his jacket.

"It's Bernini's Rape of Proserpina. He was renowned, especially in the original marble sculpture, at how realistic it was, the way Pluto's fingers pressed into her thigh. It's unreal. You see, Pluto is abducting Proserpina, intending to take her to the underworld. Back then rape didn't mean what it means today. It has an older meaning that just means kidnapping, there doesn't have to be a sexual component," I said, placing my bag on the floor and slipping off my shoes.

Pulling out my pajamas I slid into the bathroom and got undressed, donning my pajamas, a red tank top and black pants I paused to examine myself in the tarnished mirror while I brushed my teeth. After rinsing my mouth out, I brushed my hair, loosening my black hair into a vibrant mane around my face. Grinning at my reflection, I opened the door to find the Joker sitting on the edge of the bed. There was something in his eyes that took me a moment to place, and when it did a ball of nerves settled into the pit of my stomach. There was hunger in his eyes.

I hung in the door way of the bathroom, unsure of what to do with myself. I wrung my hands nervously, wondering what he was going to do.

"Are you done in the bathroom?" He asked and I nodded mutely, skittering away on coltish legs.

I climbed into the sumptuous bed, sinking down onto the soft mattress and sighing in pleasure as I got warm and comfortable.

When the Joker emerged from the bathroom he was in a pair of boxer shorts and a white undershirt. His face was naked of make-up and despite my nerves I smiled at him.

He climbed into the bed next to me, crawling over until his face lingered over mine, blocking the rest of the room from view. "You don't go anywhere tonight Brita."

And then he rolled over and went to sleep with his back to me.

The next morning he was up and dressed before I was. He kept himself locked inside the library so I wandered the grounds for lack of anything better to do. I skirted empty fountains and algae filled ponds. I pondered the houses odd garden statuaries and overgrown slightly pornographic topiaries and wondered again who these people had been. I knew that Jack had chosen the house for it's seclusion, and couldn't help but wonder what had gone on here. But then again, maybe I didn't really want to know.

I avoided the hedge maze, not trusting my companion to come and find me, and soon found myself on the edge of a crumbling vista that overlooked Gotham river. I stood there in the warm spring air watching the water make it's way out into the world beyond Gotham city limits and hoped that someday I could follow the river too. Turning I looked back towards the house, staring at the immense stone walls before crossing my arms and pressing on into the gardens again.

In the afternoon I wandered back into the house, walking through cavernous room after cavernous room. Sometimes I'd stop to try and decipher an age darkened paintings, although I doubted there were any real gems underneath the grime. I peered up chimneys and poked at aged day beds. Eventually I found myself in the kitchen and was delighted to find that at some point he had done some shopping, so I fixed myself a sandwich and sat at the island munching affably and wondering what to do next when the Joker opened the door and strolled in.

"We're going into Gotham tomorrow. Is there anything you need to do?" he asked, gazing at me intently.

"I want to visit Gran," I said, taking a sip of milk. "It's been days, she'll be missing me."

"Good good, I'll-ah- drop you off in the morning, pick you up in the afternoon. Tomorrow I need to get some things make some plans and I'd rather you not be with me when I do it. I don't want people to get the wrong idea about you," he said quickly in his slightly high pitched voice.

"And what idea is that?" I flirted, licking some peanut butter off the bread.

"That you're for sale," he replied, sobering me considerably.

"I see," I said, thinking about that as I finished my sandwich and went to the sink to wash my dishes.

"So what have you been doing all day?" He asked, studying me closely.

"Just walking the grounds, exploring the house. This place is enormous," I said, secure in the knowledge that I'd at least have something to do while we were here. "So what's your grand plot?"

"Uh uh uh, not yet, you'll have to wait until it's time just like everyone else," he teased, wrapping his arms around me.

"Alright, I'm down, but I get to wear pants this time," I said, putting my hands on his hips.

"Well-um, of course darling, you'll be needing them for what we're doing next," he said, fingering the 'J' shaped scar on the back of my neck. "I've got some more work to do, why don't you take a romp through the basement."

"I-ah-I'd rather not," I said, thinking about the topiaries. "The last people who lived here were strange."

"That's because before this place closed down it was one of the biggest brothels in North America," he explained, leering at me suggestively.

"Ah, well then," I replied, unsure of what else to say. "In that case I think I'll go look on the second floor."

When I was left alone again I climbed the second floor, flashlight in hand, and wandered from room to room, pausing now to wipe paintings down, but stopped after the second one's subject made me feel ill. I won't even bother telling you what I found in one of the closets. Eventually I found myself in a second floor library. It had an old hideously out-of-tune baby grand piano, and books and photo albums coated in dust lined the bookshelves. Pulling one of the albums off the shelves I was shocked to see some of our nations great historical figures cavorting with can-can dancers and prostitutes. These belonged in a museum or a private collection somewhere, not rotting away in some abandonned brothel.

Sometime later this was where Jack found me, curled up on a couch that had housed several hundred generations of mice looking through photo albums and reading the mistress's diaries.

"Dinner's ready," he said from the door.

"Hmm? Be right there," I said distractedly, reading an anecdote involving Ben Franklin and several of her girls.

"What are you doing?" He asked, coming further into the room.

"Reading Lady Deveroux's personal journals," I replied. "Apparently Ben Franklin liked the ladies."

"How quaint," he said as I put the book down and got up, heading downstairs


	8. Chapter 8

I was dropped off on the corner with instructions to be back outside at 2pm before the Joker sped off down the street. Wearily climbing the stairs, I pushed into reception, greeting the woman at the desk before going back to see Gran. She wasn't doing as well, in the past week she had taken a turn for the worst and I sat at her bedside, holding her hand and silently weeping while Mrs. Harner hovered around my shoulders in an effort to be comforting. Apparently she had been fading further and further away since our afternoon at the Wayne Estate, and now she seemed to be at the end.

I held her hand, singing softly to her in Faroese when her eyes flickered open and she looked at me in confusion.

"Elspeth, I know you don't like me meddling, but name your daughter Enna, she will need the strength of that name. Her life is going to be so hard. Know that I will always love you my daughter, and my granddaughter, I love you," she murmured, and then faded. I sat with her for hours until the nurses ushered me from her room to collect the body and clean the room, and I found myself sitting outside on the steps holding Mrs. Harner's hand while I waited for my ride.

When I saw the familiar black town car I kissed Mrs. Harner on the cheek and thanked her before running off down the steps. The minute I was in the car I broke down crying, long horrible wracking sobs.

The next few days were a blur, I spent much of my time sleeping, although more than once found me hunched over a toilet bowl, expelling anything that dared tried to stay in my stomach. And whatever the Joker did during those days, he did without me. But when he finally did come for me, I was ready.

"Brita, Brita, it's-ah-time to wake up, tonight's the night," he murmured, gently teasing me awake. "Put on the clothes on the end of the bed."

Yawning I sat up and rubbed my eyes before looking from him to the thick denim bootcut jeans and dark purple tank top with little black spades embroidered in one corner. Swinging my legs off the edge of the bed, I dressed with quiet efficiency before going into the bathroom to fix my hair and don the little black eye mask. When I was finished, I slid my feet into the black socks and boots that waited for me before stepping back out into the bedroom.

"Shall we?" I asked, wriggling my eyebrows expressively while he howled with laughter.

The drive into Gotham seemed more light hearted than before, the Joker was manic and alive, whatever he was planning he was clearly enjoying himself.

"I have to pick up Gran. Before we do whatever we're doing, I have to pick up Gran from her hospice care," I said stubbornly.

"Alright dollface, but after that here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna go and break my cronies out of Arkham, and you're going to help. See in the basement is an antique generator that keeps all the cells and doors locked. If you destroy the generator, all the locks release, it's a safety mechanism. So you're going to go into that basement, and find and destroy that generator while I go pay my old friend Dr. Arkham a visit. Now here, study this map, it'll show you how to get into the basement," he said, shoving a folded map and a flashlight at me. Holding the light in my mouth I studied the map, wondering more and more how I was suppose to pull this off with so little notice. But I guessed that that was all apart of his great chaotic plan.

Of course, to get into the basement, I would have to go through the women's violent ward. To say I was underwhelmed at the prospect was the understatement of the century. From there it would take me into the older unused part of the hospital laid. The antiquated therapy techniques of electrocuting patients, surgical suites where the patients were cut open while still conscious. Where they were submerged in frigid water, even drowned in some cases. And the crematoriums, where the empty shells of the mad went once their souls had fled the bowels of hell. Once I passed through the crematoriums, I would be in the boiler room where all of Arkham's equipment was held for operating the asylum. There were no short cuts. No alternatives. Just a swan dive into the depths of the harshest realities of the human psyche.

Pulling into Gotham, we swung by the hospice center and I went inside, requesting Gran's ashes and her belongings. The nurse gave me an odd look at the way I was dressed. And after I'd signed the papers I was out the door and heading for the van.

"Let's roll," I said, as he took off. As we drove he rummaged around in a massive canvas bag at the back of the car before pulling out a gun followed by several magazines.

"You ever fire a gun before?" He asked, dumping the heavy metal objects into my lap.

"No, never loaded one either," I said flatly.

"Fine,-ah- here's what you do," he said, and then began to explain to me how to load and fire a gun, where the safety was and how to set the mechanism. "You'll take the first shot when we get inside so I can make sure you're doing it right, then you're on your own. Now take this, it's the code to the door in the unused part of Arkham."

He shoved a slip of paper in my hands and I stared at the numbers before shoving it into my bra.

When we pulled up in front of the asylum and climbed out we stood there staring up at the gothic monument to psychiatry.

"Ready sweets?" He asked, and I nodded nervously as he dipped me into a passionate kiss. Then he set off purposefully up the drive, towards the first guard house.

"Shoot the guard," he murmured hotly into my ear.

"What? No," I whispered back heatedly.

"Shoot the guard, or I shoot you," he hissed, and then we were standing in front of the guard house.

The guard took a moment to notice us, the Joker grinning broadly behind me, gun pressed merrily to my right temple as my shaking hands trained the gun on the guard.

"Shoot the guard Brit," the Joker said.

"I'm so sorry," I said hotly, and then pulled the trigger. The impact of the shot knocked me back against the Joker who wrapped his other arm around me waist and held me tightly as I stared at the guard who now sat slumped on the floor, bleeding onto the linoleum.

"There's my girl," he whispered before kissing my neck. "Don't you just love the rush of adrenaline? Don't you feel so much better?"

"No," I whispered. "I don't."

"Well it'll get easier, now come on, we mustn't dawdle, there's work to be done," the Joker cackled, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me onward towards bedlam.

When we burst in the front doors, several nurses and orderlies looked up in alarm, and surprisingly the Joker had been right, it did get easier to kill.

_"Ma, stop this, I can't take anymore," Enna begs as a cool breeze blows through the cave, causing the fire to cast eery shadows on the walls._

_"The story does get better. But like all things, it has to get worse before it gets better Enna. Life is a cycle, stories are cyclical too. There's no way around the bad," I say._

_"Please Ma, I just-I need time to absorb all of this," Enna says, pushing herself to her feet and walking away, deeper into the caves._

_I wander too, through the crystalline caverns, reliving my life of crime as I walked until I come to a halt in a beautiful cavern whose walls gleam with bright blue quartz. Settling myself on the stone, I go on telling the story to myself, reliving my darkest hours._

"Well-um-alright baby you've got one hour to get to the boiler room, it's your time to shine," the Joker said and then turned and ran off, leaving me alone in the reception hall. Knowing that standing here wasn't going to win me any favors I started off in the opposite direction from where the Joker had gone. The halls and rooms I passed through were strangely empty. Where was everyone?

I broke into a jog, moving from the clean modern facilities into the increasingly rotting hospital until I stopped. A ventilation shaft could be seen at the end of the hall, the blades of the fan turning lazily, and in the flickering half-light stood a woman in a pair of coveralls that were much too big for her. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up and my hands tightened on the gun.

The sound of my gun being cocked rose interest from the woman at the end of the hall who gazed at me out of silvery eyes.

"Lady, I don't mean you any harm," I called out. "But I swear on all that's holy and green if you so much as take a step towards me I will lay you out."

Of course, this only excited her and she ran screaming down the hall at me, her fingertips ablaze with jagged bits of metal. I fired my gun. Bang Bang Bang. And she was down. I stepped daintily over her, studying the angry knives that she wore as gauntlets on her hands. How had she gotten those? Dropping my empty magazine cartridge on the floor I reloaded the gun and took off at a jog, running through the map in my head as my boots clanked on the metal.

This couldn't be right, I had to go through the women's violent ward before I got to the oldest part of the hospital. Where was I? I wondered as I came to an enormous chasm of a room with stone steps lining the outside wall, disappearing down in oblivion. Chain link fence walled in the stairwell, and I jogged down the stairs until I came to an empty door with light spilling out. Orderlies laid on the floor drenched in blood. What had happened? What laid inside those halls?

I studied the surveillance monitors but everyone seemed to be settled amiably in their cells. Apparently I had killed the only threat. Pressing through the heavy security door using a keycard I stole off one of the orderlies bodies, I started walking down the long halls as I oriented myself. Some of the women called out to me as I passed by, demanding to know what was going on.

"Hey you! You're one of Mistah J's aren't you?" Called out a pretty blonde girl, startling me out of my stoic march along.

"Mistah J?" I asked, stopping to stare at the girl.

"The Joker's, oh no, I've been replaced, haven't I?" She asked, staring at me hungrily.

"I don't know what you're talking about, the Joker and I grew up together, we go way back," I explained despite my instincts telling me to get the hell out of dodge before the shit really hit the fan.

Her hurt feelings evaporated when I told her that.

"Oh, then you've got priors, no worries, you come to get us out of here?" She asked brightly while I processed that I was apparently somewhere on the high end of a proverbial food chain.

"Er," I said, not really sure what was happening.

"Oh, sorry, my name's Harley, Harley Quinn," she said with a dazzling smile. "You go do what you gotta do, I'll wait for ya!"

"I won't be coming back out this way, you go take care of yourself," I explained, and then pressed onwards until I found a heavy security door with a greasy lock on it and I knew this was it. This lock was not powered by electricity, which meant that even when the generator went off this lock would still open and close independently of anything going on around it. Fishing the combination out of my bra I punched in the code and then leaned heavily on the door until it finally gave under my slight weight and then I closed the door, locking it tight.

I was alone with Arkham's soul


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: This chapter is not a walk in the park, and given the amount of research I had to do on the subject matter, has proven to be one of the hardest things I have ever written. I have researched the practices described here in and have tried my best to be as historically accurate as possible given the scarcity of available information. Please forgive any discrepancies. Due to the delicate subject matter I will kindly request that flamers please refrain from negative comments on this chapter.**

Taking the flashlight off my belt, I turned it on and started walking. There was no light down here, and the air was stale and the silence was deafening. I desperately wanted to be up with the Joker, causing mayhem in the light of the asylum. I thought of doves as I walked through the basements, alway always going over my mental roadmap on my journey to the generator room.

Walking down the long hall, my feet making reassuring noises of going forward I finally came to an open door at the end of the hall and stopped flat. Inside were three chairs and the smell that rose up out of them was unholy. The smell of rotting human waste filled my nostrils and I fought the need to be sick. Of course it was just my luck that I'd have to walk through the room, past the tranquilizer chairs if I wanted to get to the generator. Holding my breath I walked purposefully into the room, passing the wooden chairs that remained bolted to the floor. Only one of the chairs had a box still attached to the backboard and I stopped in awe, staring at the chair as my lungs began to complain. Those chairs had forcibly held patients with their heads inside of a lined box for days on end in the nude in an effort to quell the rising tides of madness. I did my best not to dwell on the barbaric history of psychiatric practices, but I knew the worst was yet to come. Shivering I hurried along, this place was proving to be much larger than even the Joker thought and I had no idea how I was going to get to where I was going before the time was up.

Turning I set off down the crumbling stone hall, I peered into rooms in curiosity as I passed, electric chairs, padded cells, it went on and on. Finally I came to the next chamber I had to pass through and nerves snaked up into my belly as I read the faded stenciling on the door: hydrotherapy. This was either going to be hit or miss and I shuddered to think what I was going to find inside.

Taking a moment to steady myself I thought about where else I had to pass through before I got to the boiler room. After hydrotherapy was another hall, halfway down which I would hang a right and pass through two surgical theaters, the ECT suites, and finally the morgue and crematorium before I reached the boiler room. Glancing at my watch, I sagged against the wall. I still had another forty minutes to get there.

Fighting the wave of nausea and fear, I pushed open the door and choked on the stench that hit me like a blow to the face. The smell was thick and rotting, like algae and something else, something dark and sweet and thick. Before me lay a great pool and from the ceiling were the remains of what looked like straight jackets. The pool was dark with age and stagnancy, the white tiled floor and walls were in desperate need of a good scrubbing. I could see the door I had to pass through at the end of the room. The only problem was that on both sides of the pool the floor had crumbled into the basin leaving stretches of water too far to jump on either side. Examining both sides carefully I settled on what looked like the lesser of two evils and pulled off my belt, holding it high over my head to keep my ammo safe, then I stopped and looked around for a moment. Then I pulled out a marker and wrote a note on the wall, my initials, stating that I had been there, so that someone someday would know that I died here in this horrible place. Placing my hands on the gritty tile, I slid into the frigid slimy water and held my belt high over my head as I traversed the uneven ground. I tripped, almost falling, but I caught myself on something hard and oddly rigid that snapped abruptly under my weight. I let out a shattering scream as bubbles and something grey and wrinkled floated up to the surface.

Instinct kicked in and I was moving fast towards the other side of the pool, pulling myself out of the water and sprinting as fast as I could towards the door, slamming it open and then shutting it fast behind me. I sank to the floor, shivering and crying for a moment before I checked my watch. Half an hour to go. My heart in my chest and I had difficulty breathing, so I took a few minutes to stand there with my head between my legs. I was almost there, I kept reminding myself before shakily pushing myself to my feet and setting off purposefully down the hall to the next layer of hell.

I thought about Dante's Inferno as I walked along and wondered what Virgil would have had to say about all of this. Hanging the right, I walked down the hall past the rotting walls. Despite my horrid scare in that pool, I felt strangely alive and in my element here. I began to see why the Joker found chaos so alluring. There was a clarity that came with making the conscious decision to do what no one else could.

When I reached the surgical suites, I only paused for a moment this time, cautiously peeking around the corner of the door at the empty room. It's only occupant was a skeleton and next to it on the surgical tray were blood crusted scalpels, saws, and ice picks for lobotomies. I didn't hang around to explore. Not that the next surgical suite was much better. There was no one in here, but hanging from an IV tree was a bag labelled 'lamb's blood', and buckets and buckets of dark semi-clotted blood stood around on the floor. Nausea made itself clear once again and I pressed onward. From here the suite dumped me straight into ECT. Electric chairs with strange antiquated machines stood silent sentry in the semidarkness. The room's malevolence saturated the air and made it difficult to breath, and I imagined that I could smell ozone lingering the stale air.

Shaking myself of theatrics, I breathed a sigh of relief (something I never imagined I'd do) when I reached the morgue. I had thought all along that the morgue would be the worst part, after all, what was worse than a room full of dead bodies? But as it turned out, that room was the least of my troubles.

I pushed the heavy door open and gingerly peered into the morgue. Neat metal tables stood in neat rows, ready to meet their burdens. Small metal doors, presumably where the bodies were once kept, stood closed along the back wall. The room was deceptively calm and I had a dark feeling that the worst was yet to come. Twenty minutes left on the clock.


	10. Chapter 10

Supposedly all I would have to do was pass on a straight shot down the center row of the crematorium to get to the boiler room. Checking my gun to make sure it was fully loaded and ready to go, I adjusted my belt and took a moment to re-lace my boots. Tying up my hair in a snug little bun at the back of my head, I strode across the room and opened the crematorium door. But nothing could have prepared me for what laid inside.

There were three rows of cremation chambers, eight furnaces in each row. The floor was not metal grating like the rest of the rooms down here. Here it was carefully raked gravel. The heat coming from the furnaces was oppressive. They were great iron furnaces, blazing hot from their internal fires. And that was when I heard it, a dull scraping in the gravel.

I was not alone.

I could see the edge of the boiler room door at the other end of the room. It's heavy turn-wheel staring tantalizing at me. If the person in the boiler room wanted to help me, maybe they wouldn't mind my opening that heavy door, but if they wanted to hurt me. . .

I pursed my lips, refusing to think about that. I could hear the scraping at the right end of the row so I edged to the left, peering down the empty row of furnaces. I crept along, listening to the scraping of a shovel on the gravel. When I reached the edge of the row I could see the door, it was only a few feet away. I still couldn't see the other person in the room, so I crept up to the door, grasped the wheel and threw all my strength into it. And wouldn't you know it? The wheel squeeeeaaaallled in protest as I turned the wheel, I got about half a turn before I heard advancing footsteps.

I barely had time to duck as a shovel flew at my head. Diving out of the way as it slammed into the ground I rolled and pushed off the ground and landed on my feet, dancing back as I sized up my new opponent. He was huge, hulking even, with broad shoulders and abnormally long arms that gave him extra reach with that shovel of his. He wore a dirty loin cloth that fluttered up with his movements and left very little to the imagination. On his head he wore a cage with screws that went into his head, bolting the cage to his skull. He had a sloped brow and dark beady eyes, like the coal his filled the furnaces with.

He advanced on me as I dove out of the way, doing my damnedest to stay out of reach of his shovel. He caught me once on my left bicep and I winced at the pain and the dull cracking sound as pain blossomed and caused me to see stars. I forced myself to get it together and cocked the gun as he stopped, staring longingly at the gun in my hands.

He moaned loudly at me, thumping his chest as I raised the gun wearily, and that's when I saw the sadness in his eyes.

"Poor baby, you want to be free of the boilers don't you?" I murmured, slowly walking forward until we were only a few feet apart.

Inside the cage his thick lanky black hair spilled over his shoulders and down his back. He towered over me, he was easily 7 feet.

"My name is Brita, can you tell me your name?" I asked him gently.

"Mmmhhhrrrrr. . . Sshhhaammm," he slurred, slobber dribbling down into his beard.

"Hello Sam, it's nice to meet you," I said gently, reaching how to take his enormous hair hand in my own. "I can get you out of here; take you someplace safe, but I need to get through that door to get you to safety."

Sam looked from me to the door and back again. He reached out gingerly and stroked my cheek. "Purdy."

I smiled sadly up at him until he snatched his hand away and stalked over to the boiler room door, opening the water-proof door with ease and then holding it open for me as I walked past him into the dank hall. Another stretch of metal casing and grim relics of the psychiatric communities and we finally found ourselves standing in front of the boiler room door. I checked my watch.

"Alright Sam, we've got two minutes to blow the generator and then get the hell out of here," I said, opening the final door and leading him into the boiler room. The generator sat in the corner, a gleaming white symbol of modernity in this antiquated corner of hell. Waltzing up to it, I stared at the incomprehensible controls trying to figure out where to start when Sam beat me to the punch and grabbed the entire thing in his arms and proceeded to drag it up off the floor, several cords and cables and connections, turning the generator into nothing more than an expensive paperweight before he launched it against the wall.

"That should do it," I said, walking over to the grate in the floor that would lead to the sewers. The problem was, while it would fit me, I would have to leave Sam behind, and I had promised him he could be free now.

"Sam, how fast could you get us to the upper levels of Arkham from here?" I asked thoughtfully.

"Mmmrrr, maybe ten tick tocks," he groaned, staring at me affectionately.

"Ten minutes you mean?" I asked as he nodded.

"Miinnnutes. . . Come, we go now," he said, grabbing me like a rag doll he carried me delicately as we ran through the bowels of Arkham, through the morgue and ECT rooms, past the surgical suites, down the iron halls and through the hydrotherapy chamber, we ran ran ran until we were finally at the door to the women's ward. Instead of waiting for me to pull out the combination, he ripped the lock off the door and pressed out into insanity. There were women milling around everywhere, screaming and fighting, but two stood out above the rest. Harley with her blonde pigtails and another red headed woman.

"Harley! Let's go!" I screamed at her from my perch as Sam flew by like a champion line backer and broke up the knot of women as Harley and her friend made sure to follow in our wake. Then we were out in the rotting halls of Arkham, but I could feel the air moving now and I breathed in relief. When we finally burst into reception, the Joker joined us from the other side, staring wide eyed at me in Sam's arms and Harley and the red head flanking us.

Making Sam put me down on my feet I ran across the room and jumped into his arms, kissing him deeply.

"Joker, this is Sam, I promised him I'd set him free," I said as Harley squealed. "Oooh! Mistah J!"

"Pipe down Harley, you've been replaced," he said, pushing her away and I couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. "Come on, we gotta move!"

The five of us turned as one and ran for the front doors, we cleared the entrance just as the cops were pulling up the drive and I jumped onto Sam's shoulders, pulling everyone up as Sam did what he did best and barreled through the cop cars.

As we approached the gate a gun shot rang out in the night and Sam slowed and fell to his knees. I turned quickly to see Batman heading towards us and the Joker stepping up to meet him. And then I turned my attention to Sam. About twenty feet away was an ambulance, if we could just make it that far. . .

"Come on baby, you just gotta go a little further and then you can rest," I said, heaving Sam to his feet. The three of us managed to get him into the ambulance. Harley shot everyone who dared to get in our way and the brave ambulance driver lost his life to my gun in a stupid attempt at stopping us.

"Joker, let's go!" I screamed out the back of the ambulance before slamming the doors shut. Harley started the ambulance and made a mad turn, dragging our purple suited companion into the van and then sweeping off into Gotham.

Sam was bleeding profusely and I couldn't find an exit wound. Looking around desperately I pulled on a pair of latex gloves and found a scalpel in sealed plastic in a drawer. Pulling my shirt off over my head I handed it to Ivy to thread through the bars of Sam's cage.

"Bite on that, this is gonna hurt a lot," I told him in what I hoped was a confident tone of voice. I sliced into his belly, blood burbling up around my hands as I dug into his body cavity, looking for the bullet that had lost it's way. It had, thankfully, not damaged any of his internal organs, and I found it nestled in the coils of his large intestine. Using tongs to pull the bullet out, I took the large medical staples from Ivy, cursing loudly as Harley made a sharp turn and I fell off my perch. Climbing to my feet, I caught the Joker eyeing me darkly in the mirror. I stared back for a moment, giving him an equally hateful look before returning to tending Sam's wounds. Pursing my lips, I held the jagged incision together as best I could and stapled the entire cut, leaving nothing to chance before I washed and dried the cut and dressed it with clean gauze and medical tape. Ripping off the bloodied gloves and taking the staple remover, I threw them out and leaned back against the cool wall in my stained brassiere. Taking my first deep breath of the night.

We drove for another ten minutes until we were sure we weren't being followed before stopping by the car to grab our things and then headed for the sewers. This time we found a grill that Sam could slide through if he bunched himself up, and pretty soon we were walking along the dank sewers towards one of the Joker's many hideouts.

"So what's your name?" Harley asked me brightly, attempting to look at me from where she was helping hold up Sam's listing person.

"It's Brita, and this is Sam, the boiler man. Who's your friend?" I asked, motioning to the red head.

"Name's Ivy, Poison Ivy," she said coolly.

"Nice to meetcha," I replied cheekily.

I have no idea how long we were down there, I do know that my nose was numb from the stench of the sewer by the time we reached the safe house and climbed in. It was more than just a safe house, it was a luxury apartment. Complete with a living room, fully stocked kitchen and three bedrooms with their own bathrooms. I took the box with Gran and her belongings into the master bedroom and dropped them on a chair. Going into the bathroom and turning on the shower full bore, I dropped my clothes on the floor and sat down on the toilet. Moaning with toe curling pleasure at the luxury of going to the bathroom. When I finished I hopped under the shower and began to scrub myself down. I scrubbed away the grime of my recent adventures until the water ran clean and my skin was pink before I sat down hard on the floor of the tub and thought about everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. In fact I was so overwhelmed by what had happened that I didn't even notice the Joker come into the room and pull aside the curtain to gaze over my bruised and battered body.

"Can I rest now baby? I just want to sleep," I murmured.

"Not until you tell me what happened down in that basement, and tell me who Sam is," he said menacingly.

"In the morning," I yawned.

"Sure sure, the morning. . Well it fucking well is the morning!" He screamed, wrenching off the running water and dragging me by my wet hair from the tub and into the bedroom, kicking me savagely in the ass and causing me to fall to the floor.

"Listen to me you fucking nutcase!" I screamed, pushing myself to my feet with strength I didn't even know I had in me. "I killed a madwoman because she wanted to take my face off my skull. Then I had to walk, run and wade through the bowels of hell for you. I waded through a swimming pool full of dead bodies! I snapped a skull open and found grey matter floating on the water around me. Did you know brains float Joker? Because I didn't! And then I find myself in surgical suites, one with a lobotomized skeleton on the slab that they forgot to move four doors down to the crematorium. And the other with an IV of lambs blood hanging from a thingie and buckets upon buckets of ancient clotted blood. Bleeding patients and blood transfusions with animal blood were actually thought to drive out the demons! But all it did was kill more people than save them! And then I find myself in an ECT suite. Do you know what ECT is? It's when they electrocute the personality out of you you moron, turn you into a zombie, no better than being lobotomized. And I swear to you I smelled ozone. And the morgue? The morgue was the best part because my heart wasn't trying to jump out of my chest or crawl into the pit of my stomach because the one room in that damned asylum that should have been rife with the unthinkable was actually the most orderly place in the joint. And just when I think I'm going to go insane myself, I find the crematorium. So I sidle on up to the door and I open it and I hear a scraping sound. So I inched away from it thinking oh, I'll go around the other way only the door to the boiler room is ancient, so when I try to open it it screams at me. And well, that just woke Sam up who comes lumbering around the boilers and tries to take my head off with a shovel and I barely get away from him with my head still on my shoulders and I hold up the gun. And do you know what he does? He begs me to kill him. And I lost my nerve because he just wanted someone to love him and show him a little kindness, so I said I'd get him out of there if he just helped me kill the generator. And he did. He ripped it clear out of the wall and chucked it across the room before picking me up and carrying me back through Arkham. Now after I get some sleep and get something, I'm going to see about taking that cage off of his head and maybe getting him to a home where he'll be treated like the human being he is!"

Turning around I stalked over to the closet, ripped open the doors and pulled out a blue and white shirt. Buttoning the white buttons, I went and climbed into bed and fell instantly and desperately into oblivion.

_"Oh sweet lord," Enna whispers. Because there's nothing really else to say_


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's warning: More graphic goodness, read at your own discretion.**

**And thanks to everyone for reviewing!**

Apparently I slept for a day and a half. Harley and Ivy were sitting on the chairs watching me intently when I finally did wake up.

"Oh good, we thought we were going to have to tell Mistah J you had died," Harley said brightly.

"Food, screwdriver," I stated incoherently.

"Good idea, but I think you're going to want a wrench," Ivy stated cheerfully as I climbed out of bed and padded from the room.

In the kitchen I found Sam sitting at the island with a pencil trying to solve the map puzzles in a children's game book. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and got some orange juice out of the fridge before I went and sat down at the island with him.

"Where is he?" I asked Harley, taking a bite of cereal.

"Oh he's in his office working on something," Harley said merrily.

"Here you go, this should do it," Ivy said, placing a wrench on the counter in front of me.

"Sham want out," Sam slurred, staring hungrily at the wrench. I hoped he didn't imagine I was going to bludgeon him to death with it.

"I don't know if this will help you Sam," I said uneasily. "You might die."

"Sham rather die free than live caged," he replied, staring at me desperately.

"Alright, go run a bath and get comfortable, I'm going to go change," I said wearily, putting my dishes in the sink and going to rummage through the closets until I unearth a pair of ancient crusty coveralls with stains that looked like motor oil. Taking one of the kitchen stools, the wrench, some old towels and a bottle of vodka, us ladies retired to Sam's bathroom to take in the carnage.

After he removed his loin cloth I spent over two hours scrubbing the grease and grime off of his skin before I began cutting his hair. I got it as short as I could given the cage, but if he survived the surgery his head would have to be shaved to keep the holes clean while they healed.

When he was finished bathing, he sat down naked on the tile floor in front of me so that I could examine the cage on his head.

"Pressure plates," Sam said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" Ivy asked him gently, taking his massive hand in hers.

"Screws press plates onto brain. Remove screws, no pressure. Plates on springs, seal skull shut," Sam slurred.

"Sam you understand that I'm not a doctor, and that by removing this cage you might not survive," I explained.

"Sham rather die free than live caged," he repeated firmly.

"Alright, here goes nothing," I said, putting on a pair of latex gloves Ivy had unearthed. I poured the vodka over Sam's head and did my best to clean all the screws. Harley and Ivy held Sam's hands and looked on with interest. Carefully I started removing the wing nuts that held each of the four corners of the cage in place on his head. Then I took the wrench in my right hand and stared at the cage thoughtfully for a few moments before I slugged back some of the vodka. Wincing at the rough taste I put my legs over his shoulders to hold his head in place.

"This is gonna hurt baby, but you can't move while I'm doing this, I don't want to hurt you," I said warily.

"Sham be good," he said, sounding like a little boy.

"Okay sugar," I said, clamping the wrench onto the stem of the bolt in his skull I began to slowly but firmly turn the screw in his skull. Then I went onto the next bolt. I worked as evenly as I could to relieve the pressure on his brain. Each time I got to a bolt I would give it one half rotation before moving on. It was agonizingly slow work, and the sound of metal scraping through bone is a sound I still hear in my nightmares. Blood caked Sam's hair, making it difficult to see what I was doing, so much of the time I was working by feel and faith until the first bolt cleared his skull and the distinct twang of a spring releasing echoed dizzily in the bathroom. I tried not to let my excitement get in the way of finishing the job properly, and after ten minutes of treacherously slow going I eased the cage off of Sam's head and dumped it on the floor.

"Sam, how do you feel?" I asked hesitantly as I took my legs from off his shoulders.

"Sham feel good," Sam said, his voice sounded considerably less slurred.

"Alright, well we need to shave your head and put some bandages on it. Your brain might be swollen, I want you to rest for a few days while it heals and then I think we should get you to a proper doctor," I said carefully.

Shaving Sam's head didn't prove to be much easier. I was wary of using shaving cream around the open holes in his skull but eventually I had all the hair off of his scalp and after cleaning it thoroughly I wrapped it in clean white gauze while Ivy checked his pupils. And then the three of us heaved him into his bed to rest, we went into the living room together where the Joker was sitting, watching the news on the television. Apparently the authorities were still on the lookout for us.

"We're gonna have to lie low until things die down-what the hell happened to you?" He said, finally noticing our blood spattered selves.

"Brita took Sam's cage off of his head," Ivy explained while I stood there, listing on my feet. "Come on Brita, you need to get cleaned up."

I passively let them lead me into the bathroom and turn on the shower. They climbed into the stall with me, undressing me under the water while I stood there like a child, crying as they washed me. At some point the Joker came into the bathroom, but stopped when he saw the two fully clothed women bathing me as I wept for the woman I had once been.

"I never should have been in Arkham," I wept over and over again as Harley and Ivy quietly agreed with me, refusing to look at the Joker.

"Ivy, Harley, get out," the Joker said firmly.

"No, you've done enough damage," Ivy snapped back. But the Joker didn't even talk to them, he just grabbed them by the hair and dragged them out of the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind them. For my part I sank to the floor, clutching the wall and weeping.

After a few moments he hauled me out of the shower, kicking me violently in the stomach, I vomitted and laid passively on my side weeping as the Joker rained down his fury on me before he snorted and left. Leaving me to lie on the floor as I wept pitifully.

Sam surprisingly lived through the night, and over the next few days began to regain more and more of himself. He was dazzlingly bright, with a gentle heart and a good sense of humor. He read everything in the apartment and spent hours putting together puzzle after puzzle. I even tried playing chess with him, but stopped when he started leaving me in the dust.

However, as Sam, Harley, Ivy and I became more settled and relaxed, the Joker just seemed spurned onwards by the close quarters. It didn't help that we were underground and hadn't seen the sun in days. We played board games and watched patchy black and white movies on the tv while the Joker paced his study.

One afternoon? Morning? It was hard to tell, Sam was taking a nap in his room and Ivy and Harley were lazing around in the kitchen when the Joker emerged from his office and glared at us.

"Brita, I-ah-need to see you in my office," he said, sounding almost gentle. Gulping, I pushed myself to my feet and walked across the floor, wondering what mood was riding him today.

When he closed and gently locked the door, he turned to face me, staring at me out of his black eyes. "I was so pleased at how you handled the situation in Arkham. Even if you did acquire. . . that creation in the next room. But what really surprised me was that you performed surgery, twice, and had great success both times. So are you just lucky, or is there something you would like to tell me?"

I was at a loss. Whatever I had been expecting, this was not it and I was wary of telling him the circumstances behind how I had come to know what to do. If I told him the truth, I was destroying a valuable source for people, if I lied, he would, in all possibility, kill me. Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I exhaled and tried to strap some steel onto my backbone.

"I stayed with a doctor for 6 months once, under. . . unusual circumstances," I said warily, wondering how much to tell him.

"What kind of circumstances?" He pressed, walking further into the room until he stood between me and the desk, effectively pinning me in.

"I was 17, Gran was showing signs of dementia, and they put her away. I stayed with one of our neighbor's until I reached my 18th birthday, so I stayed with a doctor who used to live in our building. . . he taught me things," I said, sifting through the whole story for the important pieces.

"What kinds of things?" Joker pressed, staring down at me.

"First aid basics, how to check for concussions, that kind of thing," I explained.

"That doesn't explain how you knew how to perform surgery," he said, looking at me queerly, as though he had never seen me before.

"Sometimes patients would come in, with problems they couldn't go to the hospital with, or they had no money, or they weren't citizens. So they came to him, sometimes he'd ask me to help out," I said, my heart was hammering in my chest like a hummingbird.

"So you performed illegal surgery in a basement operation in the Narrows?" He asked, and I gulped and nodded. "You're proving your worth more and more every day. Now go get dressed, we're taking a trip."

I scampered out of the office and across the living room and into our bedroom where I pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. Putting on some thick socks and pulling on my boots I ran a brush through my hair and piled it into a messy bun on my head. Then I thought about it and went into the bathroom to relieve myself and brush my teeth. If spending time with the Joker had taught me anything, it was to do the basics every chance you got, because you never knew when you were going to get to do it again.

"Come on doll face, we've got some errands to run. Harley, Ivy, hold down the fort 'til we get back," he said, pushing me out the door ahead of him


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Oh my goodness, the graphicness just keeps coming. I think it's safe to say it's inevitable with this story. So much for warnings.**

"You see darling, while all the coppers are out trying to round up Arkham's finest, we get free run of the city," the Joker said as he strode ahead of me. He seemed more relaxed now that we had left the hideout and I studied him warily. I was all too aware of his erratic temper and the river of human waste that ran next to us.

"So what are we going to do?" I asked, mostly because it was expected of me.

"Tut tut, all good things in time," the Joker replied, leaving me to hurry to catch up.

We walked for what felt like hours through the that horrid sewer until we reached a ladder that seemed to satisfy him.

"Go first," he said, pointing to the ladder with a knife.

"Where does it lead?" I asked nervously.

"You'll see," he smiled.

Swallowing hard, I put my hands on the cold rungs and started climbing. When I reached the grill I pushed up into a tiny room with white tiles and a heavy sound proof door with a small window in, like the kind they use in isolation rooms in prisons or mental hospitals.

The room was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, and it took some finagling to get us both into the cramped space.

"Now what?" I asked without really thinking and he grabbed my chin and slammed my head back into the hard tile. I gasped at the stars that I saw and wondered what I had done wrong.

"How about you keep your trap shut and just pay attention," he snarled before digging a simple leather case out of his pocket and turning to the door. While he worked at the lock, I gingerly touched the back of my head, inhaling sharply and staring at the sticky wet blood on my fingertips. I felt really ill from the blow, and couldn't stop seeing doubles. After a moment I bent over and vomited into the grill, and the Joker turned around, cursing when he saw me crouched down over the grill wrenching.

"You're so useless!" He growled, and then kicked me savagely in the head, effectively knocking me unconscious.

He left me alone in that white tile hole in the wall. I drifted after that, staring up into the bright white light, dozing off, hearing the voices, the rustling, feeling the kind hands on my shoulders and back as I was lifted up and carried back down into the sewers. Then I dozed off again.

When I woke I was lying under several ancient blankets of varying levels of cleanliness, and grunting, I pushed myself to a sitting position and looked around the decrepit little grotto where I had been put. An ancient woman putter about on the other side of the room, and when she heard me moaning, she turned to look at me and I gasped. She was the most gorgeous looking woman I had ever see. Even her ancient wrinkled skin was beautiful, although she had deliberately thought out her aging process.

"Ahh, I'm so glad to see you're awake, you had a nasty concussion dear," the woman said gently, pressing a steaming mug of herbal tea to my cracked lips. "Here, drink up, this will make you feel better."

"Where am I?" I croaked after swallowing.

"You're safe now child, no one will harm you here. My name is Esme, one of my neighbors brought you to me. We found the scar on your neck though dear. We can't harbor one of the Joker's own, but you can stay here until you get back on your feet in a few days," Esme murmured, placing the chipped mug on an old box and settling herself comfortably next to me on the makeshift bed.

"Thank you Esme, for your hospitality and kindness," I said genuinely. "My name is Brita. Please, if there's anything I can do to repay your kindness, let me know."

"There is-one thing you might be able to do," the woman said nervously, turning coy all of a sudden.

"Our. . . leader was injured, we don't know what to do. If you could fix him then we would consider your debt to our clan closed," Esme said nervously, wringing her hands.

I struggled not to roll my eyes, it was hard to refuse to pay a debt when I hadn't asked for help in the first place. "Alright, I'll take a look, but I'm not a doctor, I could do more harm than good."

"I understand," Esme said, prodding me to get out of bed. Pulling on my boots, I followed her down several make-shift gangplanks until we reached a hovel with an ill-fitting carved door. Esme opened it ahead of me and I followed her into the largish room with the most banged up brass bedframe I had ever see. The man who laid in the bed had a nasty stump that looked partially rotten and his eyes were glazed.

"Shit," I gasped, trying hard to ignore the cloying stench of rotting flesh. "Okay, I'm going to need a bottle of vodka, latex gloves, a good strong fire, and large sharp kitchen knife and some thick wire, and a lot of strong arms."

Esme ran from the room while I walked up to the bed and checked his pulse and breathing. He was still in there, just in shock.

"Hey there buddy, my name is Brita, can you hear me? I'm going to try to help you," I said, pulling the blankets away from his body. I nearly vomited when I saw the maggots twining in his stump and I blinked hard and tried to remember my lessons. Maggots only ate dead flesh, which meant they were helping me do my job. I had to remember that if I was going to get through the next few hours with my stomach intact.

Then I went about and extinguished the burners of herbs. Too long in these infusions and he'd be lost forever in addiction. I cut away his clothes with a pair of scissors while he stared at me blankly.

"Help?" He finally groaned, and I smiled and nodded.

"Yes, help."

A few moments later Esme returned with several strong capable looking men who laid down everything I needed.

"Alright Esme, I'm going to need a bowl, and then I need you to go and boil strips of fabric for dressings. This is going to be a long night. I hope you've all had your beauty sleep," I said to the general gathering. Esme produced a bowl from somewhere about her person before bustling from the room, calling for reinforcements.

"Alright boys, my name is Brita, if you need anything or have any questions, just ask," I said as I picked up a mug and wiped out the inside with my shirt and poured have the bottle of vodka into it, saving the rest for myself. "Now I need one of you boys to start getting him hammered."

Handing off the cup, I started building a fire in the backyard fire pit that someone had unearthed, and when it was roaring I put the knife directly into the flames. Turning back to the man, I saw he was listing.

"Alright, now for the hard part," I said. "I need everyone to take a shoulder and push down hard. He might seem feeble now, but when the pain starts he is going to start fighting me and that could cost a lot of people lives and limbs, understand?"

When everyone nodded and took a shoulder, I pulled on the gloves and took up the wire and tied it tightly at the healthiest part of the limb and then I took the rest of the sharp wire, twining it around itself I got a good grip on the wire and started sawing into the dead flesh. Peeling away the maggot filled flesh and dropping it into the bowl I worked with what I assumed was a look for horror and disgust until two inches of gleaming white bone stuck out.

Reaching into my boot I pulled out a knife I had stolen out of the Joker's drawer a few days earlier, thinking it might be useful.

"Now bone pain is the worst pain imaginable, this is where it gets tricky so hold on tight and don't let him thrash too hard," I said as I wiped my brow with my forearm before digging my weight into the man and began sawing into the bone.

His screams were hideous and ungodly and the sawing was slow going. Biting my bottom lip I bore down as hard as I could and after what felt like an eternity the bone finally snapped free and I exhaled, dropping the bone into the bowl.

And that was when things started to go downhill because I could hear the Joker calling from me from a distance that was too close for comfort.

"Alright boys, my ride's here, but I still have to solder his wound shut, so I'm gonna do that and then dress his wound and then I'm sure I'll be carted off on some other unimaginable errand from the Pit of Tartarus," I said, not caring if they got my references or not and reached into the fire to pull out the knife. It was cherry red, but not hot enough.

I began to pace nervously, listening to the Joker's screams. I checked the knife again when I went like he must've been right on top of us and found it was white hot. Taking off the gloves and dropping them into the flames, I pulled the hot blade of the fire and walked across the room.

"Hold him tight," I announced as the door flew open behind us. "This is gonna hurt. Joker, you're going to have to wait a minute baby."

And before the Joker or anyone else could interrupt me, I pressed the hot blade into his flesh causing a fresh surge of screams and curses to rise from the man in front of me. I pressed slowly and surely across the length of his stump. I don't know how those boys held him fast, but they managed to keep him still enough for me to close off his wounds. When it was over I sat back heavily on the bed and started crying silently. I dressed his wounds with Esme's bandages and told her not to burn any more of the herbs she had been using. Now he needed a general antibiotic to kill anything left in his system and to give him time and rest. Then I washed my hands silently and thoroughly with vodka before I walked up to the Joker and wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his chest.

"Let's go, the debts been paid," I said softly before pulling away and walked out of the hovel.

I got to the edge of the homeless town before I sat down on an old orange crate and started weeping again, I was starting to snap under the pressure, and I wondered how much longer this would go on for.

"You're pathetic Brita," the Joker said as he walked towards me. "I thought you were stronger that this."

"I am what I am," I said tiredly.

"No, you'll be better than what you are," he replied, and dragged me to my feet. "We're not going back to the hideout tonight, we'll stay in another hole for the night, closer to here."

I didn't argue with him, I knew how crazy he had been with everyone around at the other hideaway, but I couldn't help but worry about Sam being on his own. And then I realized that I needed to worry about myself right now.

I followed the Joker through the sewers, from Gotham's modern waste system into the older aqueducts that made up the sub-levels until we reached a door that looked like it belonged on a bank vault and not down in the sewer.

"Grab the wheel and put your back into it," he muttered, and together we worked to heave the ancient wheel before dragging the door open and then shut behind us. There was barely enough room for the two of us, but it would do. It had a toilet in the closet, and a bathtub in the kitchen area. with a sink, a single countertop and an ancient fridge. There was a portable wardrobe in one corner and a full sized bed in another and a bookshelf full of ancient 20 cent paperbacks stood against the wall.

After dragging the door shut I turned the spigots on the bathtub until the water ran clean and hot and I stopped up the tub. When it was full, I turned off the water and undressed, ignoring the Joker I crossed the room to stand naked in front of a full length mirror. Pursing my lips I studied the myriad of bruises cuts and scrapes that covered my person. Some were fresher than others but my body was still a record of the crimes that had been committed against me.

"I think you're beautiful like that," the Joker said gently, from where he leaned against a wall watching me.

"I used to be beautiful. I used to be a lot of things," I murmured as I loosed my hair over my shoulders and turned to the tub. Climbing in I collapsed in the enamel tub and groaned with pleasure as the heat began to soak into my muscles.

I picked up the sliver of soap and began scrubbing myself down and as I bathed myself I began to sing softly, Louis Armstrong's "As Time Goes By" fell off my lips as I clipped my finger and toe nails with a pair of kitchen sheers that had been within reach while the Joker laughed at my inventiveness. And then I slid down in the tub, submerging my head under the water I covered my ears with my hands and shut my eyes, blocking out the world. And then a hand snaked down into the water and held me down against the bottom of the tub. My eyes snapped open as I looked up through the grey water at the Joker grinning down at me from where he stood over the tub.

A strange calm stole over me as I smiled and relaxed.

_"Oh Ma you didn't," Enna moans._

_"Oh Enna," I replied firmly. "You've worn a woman's belt since you were eleven, stop acting like a child, even mother's have their dark days."_

It was the only time I ever scared the Joker. He seemed delighted by my submission at first, but when I continued not to fight back, even though my lungs were screaming for air and the world was becoming more and more narrow he smile turned to something akin to fear and he pulled me out of the tub and collapsed with me on the floor, patting me on the face and trying to get me to wake up.

It was so tempting just to slip away, and my body kicked me out of the drivers seat as instinct took over and I coughed up some bathwater as I turned onto my side, hugging the Joker to my naked breast as I heaved with the effort of breathing.

It took a moment for the pieces to fit together and I pushed back against his chest, pushing back across the cement floor leaving a puddle as I went. I panted with the effort of doing even that much and regarded him through the hair that had fallen in my face.

"Oh Brita, why don't you want to play with me anymore?" He asked gently, staring at me with his head cocked to one side.

I knew that I had to walk a fine line when the Joker was in one of his moods, but I was just too tired.

"Take what you want from me baby, all I ask is that when your done, you leave me here and never bother me again, or you kill me. Because if the sun dawns tomorrow and your still treating me like this, I will find a way to end it," I said firmly.

"No, you won't," he replied grimly. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Well I've had it Jack. You're hot then cold then hot then cold. I get that you're bored but your personal happiness is not my responsibility. Now I've had a trying few days under circumstances that you put me into. So I'd really just like to get some sleep and deal with things in the morning after I've had a proper's night sleep. I'm still done in by the concussion you gave me and I just can't-" My last words were drowned out the sound of a siren sounding from next to the heavy door.

"Come on, we'll be under water if we don't close the door," the Joker said, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the door.

That's when it dawned on me why this room was here. It was an observation deck and the door was water tight. We grabbed the inside wheel and pulled on the heavy door until it slammed home and we heaved the heavy wheel under the massive bolts slid home.

Our momentary team work seemed to put things into perspective and I left the Joker panting by the door while I went to the wardrobe where I pulled out a blue and white shirt just like the ones he wore and pulled the heavy material over my head before rooting around some more and digging out a hair brush. I spent some time untangling my hair before I climbed silently into the bed and wrapped in on myself.

A few minutes later the lights clicked off and I could feel the Joker settled down on the bed next to me. I could feel his presence under the blankets next to me and when he wrapped his arms around me I whimpered and my hand instinctively went to the back of my head.

"Shh Brit, there'll be no more of that," he murmured, stroking my hair and running his fingertips along the tiny white hairs on my belly.

I strained against him for a moment as tears slipped down my cheeks. "I want to go back to eating popsicles on the fire escape with you in the summer."

"So my father could beat me and abuse me?" he murmured thoughtfully.

"We could write him out of the story. Say he died of a consumption and you came to live with an elderly aunt," I replied softly as tears continued to trickle down my cheeks.

"You can't rewrite history," the Joker replied softly. "I am who I am because of what happened, just as you are who you are because of Gran and her dementia-hey stop struggling Brit, nothing's gonna harm you tonight. We can't change who we are or what we've become. It's a part of the story. Just like we're apart of one another's stories."

"Woven together," I said, slowly starting to relax as he wove his fingers in between mine.

For three days we were trapped down there, and they were amazingly restful, especially considering what came after. We took long baths together, talked for hours, dozed. I spent in an inordinate amount of time sitting at the observation window marveling at what it was like to be underwater. When we made love our couplings were sweet and quiet. You were conceived during this time.

_"So my father is the Joker," Enna says in disgust._

_"No Enna, it is my deepest most heartfelt opinion that your father is Jack. The sweet but frightened guy who just tried to defend himself against the horrors of this world," I reply, and watch my daughter relax as she slowly makes the distinction._

When the holding tank was drained and rinsed, we were finally free to leave and I found myself reluctant to go. I had no idea what was going to happen next, but the Joker seemed to know, so I followed him meekly.

We walked again for what seemed like hours until we came to get another grill in the ceiling.

"You're going up babe," the Joker said, pointing with his thumb.

"You're not coming?" I asked, staring up at the tiny grill and wondering how I was going to fit through there myself.

"I need you to do something for me that only you can do," the Joker said, pressing a ring of keys into my hand with a golden tag attached to them with the number 2234 engraved on it before biting my lip and sucking on it tenderly.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" I asked teasingly when he released me.

"I want you to seduce Batman," the Joker said, and I swear on all that's good, I thought he was joking. I started howling with laughter to the point where I fell against the wall, gasping for air and as I shrieked with laughter.

Then I realized that I was the only one laughing. "You want me to seduce Batman? How the hell do you expect me to do that?"

"Be creative, wear something tight and black, he likes it. And when I send the signal, I want you to lure him in. I'll let you know where when it's time," the Joker grinned, handing me a gun and several magazine clips. "The hotel room is paid for, the address is on the back of the tag. Oh, here, take this money for food and clothes, maybe get a haircut, you look awful."

"Thanks babe, you always were a charmer," I said sweetly.

"Good, now get climbing," he said, pushing me towards the ladder.

"Oh geez, what about Gran?" I asked, turning to face him frantically.

"I'll bring Gran when we meet again," the Joker said. "I promise. Now go, time's a-wasting kiddo."

Shoving the gun into the back of my pants under my shirt, and the clips into my boots, I pocketed the keys and money and started climbing. When I looked down for one last look at the Joker, he had gone. So I heaved a sigh and pushed through the grate, shimmying my ample hips and praying I didn't get stuck, I managed to clear the narrow space. Heaving a sigh of relief, I gently placed the grill back down and started climbing towards day light.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay between updates, things have been nuts with school and work. Here's another chapter, lemme know what you think!**

When I reached the top of the ladder, I found myself staring at the bottom of someone's dress shoe. And despite the extreme angle, I fancied I recognized the man on top of my escape hatch and gingerly snaked my fingers out between the bars and pressed them into his black loafers, trying to get his attention. The man looked down startled, and I grinned and put a finger to my lips, gesturing to him to be quiet. I had been right, it was Bruce Wayne who was blocking my escape.

From my rather limited viewpoint, I was under the impression that Bruce was in a garden with a group of people and it dawned on me that I was probably coming up in the Wayne Botanical Gardens. I had no idea how long I was going to be there for so I leaned back against the wall of the pipe and did my best to get comfortable, despite the gun digging into my lower back.

Eventually the group moved on and Bruce dropped to one knee opened the grill. I wrinkled my nose at the tight space and once again managed the amazing feat of fitting the camel (i.e. me) through the eye of the needle (i.e. the manhole).

When I got my hips clear of the small opening, I sat on the rim of the world and panted, staring up at the sunlight that filtered down through the greenhouse glass. I grinned broadly and sprawled backwards, staring up at the blue sky in delight. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen the sky, had felt the earth beneath me, and I connected instantly.

"Brita, are you okay?" Bruce asked, sitting down on the ground next to me.

"Depends," I said. "What's today's date?"

"The fifteenth," he replied, looking at me quizzically.

"I've been trapped underground for more than two weeks," I sighed, still staring up at the sky. "The sky is so beautiful."

"You've been with the Joker," Bruce said, and I turned my head to study him. He really was a gorgeous man.

"Is there something wrong with that?" I asked quietly, noticing for the first time that we were alone.

"Did he hurt you?" Bruce continued.

"Of course he hurt me," I replied quietly. "It's what he does. It doesn't matter who they are or what their relation to him. He just causes pain."

"Doesn't that bother you?" He asked, a note of interest in his voice.

"It's a part of who he is," I replied gently. "He can't change that anymore than you can change who you are. . . I'm so tired of talking and thinking about him though. I just want to lie here and stare at the sky before I have to figure out where the hotel is I'm staying at."

"Maybe I can help," Bruce offered gently, and I lifted my hips off the ground and fished the keys out of my pocket and handed them over. He started laughing when he read the tag. "I own that hotel, and you're staying in the best suite in the place."

"My my, swimming pools, movie stars," I murmured, stuffing the keys back into my pocket.

"Why don't I give you a ride over there? My business is done here for today, maybe we could stop off at the police station first," he offered genially.

I sat up and took my feet out of the manhole. Closing the grill, I looked up at him angrily. "No, no cops, I don't want any of that crap."

"But Brita-" He started.

"Don't you But Brita me Wayne. You have no idea what I've been through or what I've done. But it's not over yet, and if I go to the cops now the shits gonna hit the fan and things are going to be a million times worse than they are already. All we can do for now is sit tight," I snapped. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go and find this hotel, and maybe a liquor store, so I can lie down and get plastered."

I started to get up, and Bruce took my arm and helped me climb to my feet.

"At least let me give you a ride to the hotel, I even know a good liquor store on the way," he said with a smile.

I sighed deeply, all the fight had gone out of me. "Yeah, sure, okay."

The ride to the liquor store and the hotel were amicable, and when we parked out in front, Bruce took my hand for a moment.

"Brita, would you perhaps like to get dinner sometime?" Bruce asked hopefully, and I grinned.

"I'd love too," I replied with a bright smile.

"Why don't we meet here tomorrow at eight?" Bruce suggested.

"That's perfect," I said with a smile, wondering what the hell I was thinking as I climbed out of the car and headed for the hotel. Why was I building relationships with other men when the Joker had already marked me? Pushing the sensible voice in my head away, I checked into the hotel, and once in the elevator, I stomped my foot in frustration.

"Jack's not who he used to be, and I'm a grown woman. I can have dinner with billionaire playboy's if I damned well please. I've already gotten the Joker's blessing for seducing Batman," I muttered darkly as I stalked off the elevator and headed down the hall towards the suite. But when I opened the door, all complaints fled my mind in a million different directions. The suite was wide and airy, and the view was spectacular. It even had a baby grand piano sitting on the dais.

Through a set of double doors was the bedroom with a massive king sized bed. The bathroom had an enormous shower stall and a the deepest sunken marble tub I had ever laid eyes on. Dropping the gun, clips, keys and money on the bed, I turned on the water in the tub and went out to count what Jack had given me. I nearly squealed when I counted out the money. He had given me 5 grand, and I knew just where to start. Grabbing the phone from beside the bed, I took it into the bathroom with me and shut the door behind me.

One incredibly long soak later, I had appointments to get my hair and nails done, and my body wrapped, massaged, and steamed within an inch of it's life for that afternoon at one of Gotham's premiere spas. After I finished bathing, I dressed back in my old clothes, and sticking the gun and clips into the safe in the room, I shoved the money and keys into my pocket and left for greener pastures.

On the way to catching a cab for the spa, I caught sight of myself in a store front window and slipped inside, forking over money for several new changes of clothing, and some necessities before going on my merry way.

Five hours later I emerged feeling more groomed and relaxed than I could ever remember being and still had an incredible amount of cash on my person. But I knew it was time to get down to business, I headed for David's old Army/Navy store where I picked up a special kevlar weave that moved with you, along with a utility belt and a few other odds and ends to get me through the night. At a costume shop I found a little red and white domino mask, a nurses cap and dress, and little matching boots. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Then I headed back to the hotel for a leisurely meal and to get ready for my long night ahead.

After spending hours cursing and grumbling, I managed to sew on the kevlar by hand to the inside of the dress. Then I got room service and took a nap in the deep comfortable bed. Rising around ten I went into the bathroom and sighed. My hair was so beautiful, the way it now fell in layers around my heart shaped face; it seemed a shame to put it up and have that stupid hair tie bump in my hair. Sighing, I brushed my long hair up into a high pony tail on my head before taking care while I dressed in my new armored dress, and I stopped, eyeing how I looked in appreciation in my new get-up before I pulled on the mask and pinned it firmly in place. Donning my boots, I buckled the belt around my waist, making sure everything was still in place before stepping back to get the full effect in the mirror.

"You know, the difference between me and Batman? I make this look good."

When I left the room, I headed for the roof and stopped to scan Gotham City, wondering how the hell I was going to find him in this enormous urban wasteland.

"This is a fool's errand," I muttered, but started walking towards the edge of the building anyway. On three sides it was a sheer drop off, but at the back it was only a short drop to the building behind it, so I took off this way, hopping from roof top to roof top, feeling more and more confident as I went. After an hour of aimless roaming, I heard some screaming coming from above me from where I stood on a fire escape, trying to decide if I should go up or down when I heard a man call and a black mass came hurtling towards me through the darkness, and then I jumped into action without really thinking. Launching myself off the fire escape, into the mass of black fabric, and threw a cracked window into an abandoned building on the other side of the alley. We rolled on the heavy concrete floor before we came to a stop and I realized that I had inadvertently found Batman-and he needed medical assistance! I couldn't believe my luck!

Gently rolling him off of me, I leaned over him and sucked in my breath at the blood that was oozing from a long gash on his neck. But when I reached to pull back his armor, he hands gripped my wrists with enough force to make the bones creak.

"Don't be stupid," I murmured. "You're going to bleed to death if you don't let me help you, you've taken a nasty blow. Can't you turn your head in that thing?"

He hands relaxed as I pursed my lips and pushed back the neck on his costume, cleaning it off with alcohol before pulling out a suture kit and performing a quick, but almost cosmetically sound level of care before covering his neck in gauze.

"There darling, identity maintained and you'll live to fight another night of crime," I said, softly letting one of my fingers drift down his chin. "Although you do look terribly familiar. Ah well."

"Oh yeah? And who're you?" He growled as I helped him to his feet.

"Me? Hmm, just call me Nurse Betty," I said with a sly smile.

_Enna snorts with laughter. "Tell me you're joking."_

_"Wait, I haven't gotten to the best part yet," I said, trying hard not to roar with laughter._

"Funny, you look more like Betty Paige," he muttered. "Thanks Nurse."

_"What?" Enna squawks loudly._

_"That's the best part!" I shriek, howling with laughter._

I fished a lollipop out of my belt and tucked it into his before leaning up on my tippy toes and kissing him gently on the lips. "This is for being so good."

Before he could do anything though, I turned and headed for the window.

"So where do I go if I need more. . . medical attention," he growled.

"Just meet me in the clock tower at midnight, I'll be waiting," I said before hopping through the window and across the alley, heading up to the roofs of Gotham and back towards the hotel. My work was done for the night.

I slept late the next morning, and ordered breakfast in bed. Finally, around 2 in the afternoon, I pulled my sorry carcass out of bed and into the bathroom to observe the damage. In addition to the plethora of cuts, scratches and bruises that graced my person, I had a few nasty cuts and scratches from when I went flying through the window, and I wound up spending most of the afternoon in the bathroom digging glass out of my butt with a pair of tweezers, and by the time I finished I was more than a little drunk on the complimentary champagne that came with the room. Stumbling naked out of the bathroom, I collapsed back into bed and knocked out. I woke up at 8:15 to a knocking on the hotel door and I stumbled out of bed, throwing a hotel robe over my shoulders before running for the door. I tripped over the ottoman in the living room and went sprawling across the floor, I muttered dark things about modern interior design and then wrenched the door open to find myself staring up at a very well-dressed Bruce Wayne, while he stared down at my not dressed at all self.

"Shit," I said succinctly. "Give me ten minutes!"

I tore across the living room and into the bedroom. Wrenching on pantyhose and donning my new frock, I ran a brush through my hair, settling the curls in a silky cloud around my face, I put on some mascara and lip gloss before shoving my feet into my pumps and walking daintily back into the living room and taking my clutch from off the bar.

"Those are some interesting cuts on your back," he said as headed for the elevator.

"Oh yeah? I got those a couple days ago. . . got into a fight with a screen door," I responded, lying effortlessly.

"Oh yeah? So did I," he said with a grin and I started giggling. Who knew Bruce Wayne bantered?

I was nervous on the ride to the restaurant and kept looking around expecting the Joker to jump out and catch me, but he never appeared.

We ate in a charming bistro in a quiet corner of Gotham, talking about art and business and life. I actually began to relax for the first time in weeks. I actually had the luxury of slowing down and enjoying things. Not that the Joker and his antics were ever far from my mind. I just slowed down a bit.

"So, what was it like?" Bruce finally asked, and it took me a moment to realize what he was referring too.

"It was hard," I said after a long time. "I saw things, did things that no one should have too. But along the way I found parts of myself that were missing, and found new members of a family I had lost. . . Gran passed away Bruce, the same day as the Arkham breakout."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," he murmured, Gran had that way about her. Everyone loved her, and everyone missed her.

Our talk turned to less heavy topics after that, and I was glad that he wasn't pushing the issue of the Joker on me.

By 10:30 he dropped me off back at the hotel, and I walked inside as a light rain began to fall. I had an hour and a half to get dressed and get to the clock tower.

An hour later I was running across the rooftops of Gotham, heading for the clock tower about twenty blocks north of where I was. Getting across the streets took some creative thinking, but eventually I made it with five minutes to spare, and I leant against the heavy stones that held the clock in place, gazing out over the city. As the minutes ticked by, I slid down until I sat with my feet dangling off the edge. I smiled when a breeze ruffled my face and I fought the desire to rip off my mask and loose my hair.

I must've sat up there for almost an hour. I was about to pack it in for the night when he landed almost silently beside me.

"Come on, your services are required," Batman growled.

"Where? What happened?" I asked, letting him help me to my feet so I wouldn't topple off the building.

"A young woman got caught by some gang members, she's in pretty bad shape," he said urgently, grabbing me by the waist and holding me tight. "Don't let go."

Well try and make me! The man leapt off the building and I began screaming madly as we glided over the city. I clung to him desperately, even when we landed near an old warehouse I had difficult convincing my body it was okay to let go. When I managed to get my feet under me, I took off ahead of him towards the warehouse and stared at the men starting to circle back around the battered young woman.

Whipping the gun out of it's holster at my right hip I aimed it. "FREEZE!"

They all looked up at me in shock. In retrospect they probably would've all just shot at me, but I had Batman on my side, and dammit, I was going to take advantage of that. Batman, for his part, took care of the guys while I ran forward to help the girl.

She was a frail little blonde thing, barely seventeen years old. Blood was caked into her long, lank hair and her fragile white skin was bruised and battered. Her leg was at an awkward angle and I groaned.

"This is gonna be really bad," I said. "She needs doctors, surgery, she should have gone to a hospital. Call an ambulance. . . and the cops."

"You, idiot boy with the tattooed face, get over here and hold her shoulders," I said, pointing my gun at one of the thugs.

"Yo, who do you think you are?" The thug demanded. Something clicked on in me and I pulled the trigger, shooting him in the leg. "Anyone else wanna argue?"

Another of the stronger looking guys leapt forward and held her shoulders while I grabbed the girl's shin.

"Scream," I said, and then wrenched her leg back, resetting the bone while she screamed hysterically, begging and pleading with me to stop. Then I motioned the thug back to his friends as Batman tied him up.

A few minutes later the sounds of the police and ambulances showed up and Batman and I made our exit, heading back to the clock tower.

When we landed, he regarded me for a long moment. "How did you know to do that?"

"I used to be a human being," I said cryptically. "See ya around toots."

"Wait! You're not going anywhere, you still shot that guy!" He said, striding after me. But I had already hopped off the side of the clock tower. I descended quickly, landing neatly on the next roof before I took off again. I made it another rooftop before he caught up with me.

"I saved your life, you let me go free, we'll call it even," I said sweetly.

"Sorry Betty, you're coming with me," he growled, pulling me close against him. My hand snuck to my gun and pulled it out of it's holster, and pressed it against his cheek and cocked it.

"No, I'm not," I said firmly. "Now you're going to let go, or I'm going to blow your mandible off."

He practically pushed me away from him and I turned and started running across the buildings before dropping into an alley. As I ran down the fire escape I climbed through a window into an abandoned apartment and stripped off the mask and cap, pushing everything into the collapsible bag I kept tucked into my utility belt, I pushed through the heavy metal door and was heading for the stairs when I heard a rattling coming from one of the apartments ahead of me. It sounded like a death rattle, and my blood turned cold in my veins. Pulling my gun out of the back of my pants, I cocked the hammer and crept forward, keeping my eyes pealed. The cops still hadn't caught all the criminals that had been released from Arkham, and despite my own involvement in that breakout, I didn't think the more confused patients would care about the part I had played.

And then I heard another rattle from behind me and I whirled around. They were everywhere, and I was a few bullets shy of getting out alive. The one of them screamed and ran at me with a make-shift knife. I fired into the man's stomach but they kept coming. I shot and shot until I was fighting my way over bodies, waist deep in gore as I fired. Tears ran down my cheeks as I screamed and clawed at them. A few of them grabbed me and hauled me backwards as another one ripped open my shirt. My breasts had started to become swollen and tender and they swam in my bra, threatening to spill over at the patients reached out and pawed over my pale flesh as I screamed for mercy and I nearly wept with relief when I felt the solid and assured grasp of sanity behind me. Men screamed as they were pushed into submission and as soon as I was free, I fled the scene, not looking back even when the Batman yelled at me to wait.

I made it halfway back to the hotel, I was so flustered I hadn't even bothered to rebutton my shirt when Batman swept out of no where and carted me off into the sky for the second time that night. I screamed and struggled against him, but it was no use. Snot ran down my lips and I was sobbing so hard I couldn't even breath. It didn't help that his forearm was pressed into my diaphragm. Fear was still a living thing in me from my scare in the building and when Batman set me down I stumbled away, throwing my hands over my head and shrieking for him not to hurt me.

"Get some rest," was all he said before moving on, and it took me a moment to realize that I was back on the roof of my hotel. How had he known where I was staying?

Back in the hotel room I threw all the locks on the door and sank to the floor as the tears over flowed in my eyes and I began to weep.

In an act of desperation, I picked up the phone and dialed Jill, begging her to come to the hotel, to bring a pregnancy test, and to tell no one. Then I went to the piano and sat down, forcing myself to play, and I lost myself in the music until Jill knocked on the door and I wrenched it open, pulling her inside and locking the door behind her.

"Did you get it?" I asked desperately.

"Yeah, what's this all about Brita? Where have you been?" Jill demanded, following me into the bathroom where I was peeing on a stick.

"I think I'm pregnant Jill," I said dismally, putting the stick on the marble counter before wiping myself and washing my hands.

"What? Whose the father?" She asked as she sat down on the floor.

"The Joker," I replied, biting my lower lip and playing with my hair. "The only reason I'm not with him now is because he wants me to seduce Batman but I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up."

"We have to call the police Brita, call Mr. Wayne, someone, Grandfather can help," Jill started, her endless worry was trying my nerves.

"No, he'll be so angry if I go to the police," I murmured. "The baby won't survive. I won't survive. All I can do is wait."

We turned our attention to the stick, and stared at the two pink lines.

I was pregnant.

Tears slid down my cheeks as I placed a hand tenderly against my abdomen.

"Brita-" Jill began, but I cut her off.

"I think I need to go to the hospital," I said, sliding in shock to the cold tile floor.

"Okay, come on, I've got the car downstairs," Jill said, easing me to my feet.

My tears began in the living room of the suite, and didn't stop until long after I was admitted to the hospital for observation overnight. I had been given a mild sedative and I just let it take me away.

It was early afternoon when I woke to find the Joker sitting in an armchair across the room staring at me.

"Good morning Brita. You know, when I told you seduce Batman, I meant Batman, and ONLY BATMAN!" He screamed, throwing a newspaper in my face.

Picking it up I stared at the picture on the front of the social pages. "Bruce Wayne enjoys leisurely dinner with an unknown young woman." And there was a clear picture of me and Bruce in black and white having dinner.

"Now, I don't take kindly to other people TOUCHING MY THINGS. But when MY THINGS TOUCH SOMEONE ELSE IT BECOMES VERY PERSONAL!" He howled, and raised his hand to strike me, but stopped when he saw the look on my face of absolute acceptance and resignation. I longed for the Faroe Islands suddenly, to feel the salt spray on my face as I walked the green hills and valleys.

He was about to say something else when the doctor came in, and didn't even notice the Joker before he began talking. "Miss, we have the results of your test back and you are, in fact, pregnant, congratulations."

The doctor didn't get a chance to finish speaking before the Joker slit his throat silently and effectively.

"Pregnant? My my, now isn't that something," the Joker hissed from where he stood staring down at me. "See, we've-ah-had a change of plans Brita, and I've decided that you would better serve my purposes elsewhere. And we're going to-um-have ourselves a little experiment. And you get to be the guinea pig!"

_"What a charmer my father is," Enna mumbles._

_"Mmmm, he did have his moments," I say thoughtfully._

_"So why didn't you leave?" Enna asks._

_"Leave? Hah! No one leaves the Joker's company until he says so, and even then. . . Your father is a lot of things dear, but compassionate is not one of them," I respond softly, stroking her hair from where she lies with her head in my lap._

_"So what happened next?" Enna asks curiously._

_"I'm not really sure," I say truthfully. "But I'll tell you what I remember."_

Your father dragged me from the hospital room in my stupid gown out to the parking lot. At first I thought we were going to return to the pornographic mansion, but no such luck. Your father took me down by the river where he took me at a force march along the banks until we reached a large water drainage pipe.

He pushed me ahead of him back into the sewers, and eventually we came up in a room with old isolations cells lining both sides of the walls. We were back in Arkham, but I had no idea where.

"Get in the there," Joker said, prodding me forward.

"Brita!" Sam yelled, and came running forward, wrapping me up in an enormous hug.

"Sam!" I shrieked, hugging him back. "I'm so glad you're all right, how are you feeling? How is your head?"

"Feel better, head feel good. Joker said he has surprise for you," Sam said, staring into the hurt look on my face. I know he saw it from the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he didn't say anything; we all knew better than to say anything around the Joker. "Sam still take care of you."

"Thank you Sam, that means a lot to me," I replied quietly with a soft smile.

"Yeah yeah yeah, cry me a river," the Joker muttered, prodding my shoulder with his hand gun. I let him put me into that cell and lock the door behind me. I sank to the floor of the padded room, and stared up at the ceiling, where the only other way out was a ventilation fan whose shaft was too small for me to fit through.

Time became liquid.

I laid on the stained padded floor and stared up at the ceiling vent. The heat was stifling and I took off my clothes so that I laid in my underwear among the myriad of sins the damned had left behind. My breasts were swollen and tender and I felt a little queasy. But all I could do was lie there and wait.

I sang lullabies to you, talked to you constantly. Several times a day Harley or Sam would come with a tray of food and some vitamins. We did our best, mostly because my pregnancy seemed to overshadow everything and the Joker seemed desperate to keep both of us alive. Periodically he'd come into the cell with me, lock the door behind him and just stand there, staring at me for what felt like hours. Then he would leave again. Eventually I stopped trying to talk to him.

_"Eventually I stopped talking to everyone, except for you Enna," I say, my voice made brittle by the unshed tears._

_"Momma," Enna whispers like a child._

_"Well, what happened next I don't think I ever saw coming," I say, heaving a sigh, wondering if our relationship with ourselves and each other was strong enough to withstand the truth of admitting what had happened to the both of us._

My stomach had just begun swell when a new member was added to our cast of characters.

Living under the earth you don't really have a sense of time, so you learn to listen to your body's rhythms. I was dozing when the heavy metal door creaked open and heard voices and rustling before I was rudely shaken awake by a man who was alarmingly attractive. He had startling sea green eyes and a wide, delicately featured face that some women may have found captivating but I found terrifying.

"She's pregnant," the man said bluntly, looking back up at the Joker.

"No shit Sherlock," I said, pushing myself up and pulling my shirt on over my head so that I sat there in my ill-fitting top and underwear.

"I still want to go ahead with the procedure," the Joker replied and my blood began to thrum in my ears.

"W-what procedure, Joker?" I asked, looking up at him fearfully. "I'm carrying your child, this life hasn't even had the chance to falter and I won't let you damage that."

"Oh dear darling Brita," the Joker crooned. "I'm not going to damage that, I'm going to make the both of you better."

Nausea overwhelmed me and it wasn't clear whether it was because of the pregnancy or the situation. Probably both.

I slowly climbed to my feet, prepared to fight if it meant we got out of there alive. The two men eyed me for a moment before advancing, in their movement I ran forward, using my increased weight to gain the advantage and I pushed them both aside and ran for the main hatch, Sam was ahead of me, pulling the door open and scooping me up onto his broad shoulder before he started running as fast as he could out into the sewers.

When I heard the gun being fired, time seemed to stop.

Sam faltered and then fell beneath me, crashing to the gritty ground with a terrible reality. I fell face forward into the dirty concrete, but I managed to push myself up, I pulled Sam into my lap, held his enormous head and wept.

"Brita, perdy Brita. I tried to take care of you," he wheezed.

"I know baby, it's okay, I know you tried to take care of me. You did a good job, now it's time to rest," I said, tears flooding down my cheeks and heartache constricting my chest. Snot poured out my nose as I sobbed, rocking back and forth over Sam until he breathing turned shallow and stopped.

The Joker and the newcomer had to physically drag me off of Sam and I screamed, fighting them, kicking and biting until the Joker brought the butt of his gun down on the base of my skull and the world went dark.


	14. Chapter 14

_Standing on the bluffs overlooking the ocean, I watch the thick dark storm clouds approach the Islands, lightening firing in their confines. Enna sits back in the cave, preparing our evening meal. It's her turn to heat the cooking stones, and I can't help but remember a time when we did not need such things._

_I walk along the edge of the cliffs, enjoying the beauty of the world around me, and knowing that it cannot last forever. Tonight Enna will know the truth of our story and I do not know if she is strong enough to survive what I have to tell her. And I do not know if I am strong enough to return to the world I left behind, and do what I need to do in order to get restitution for myself and my daughter._

_I walk for hours, watching the storm come closer and closer._

_When I finally turn back towards the cave, rain begins to fall._

_I find Enna just finishing dinner, and I settle myself beside her on a blanket. We eat in silence, listening to the storm raging outside, and when we finish, we set our dishes out in the rain, and I take Enna's hand, leading her deep into the caves where an underground lake lies, and I tell her to sit on the waters edge._

_"You can always tell everything you need to know about a woman by asking her about her mother," I say, running my fingers through my daughter's hair. "The stronger the daughter, the less she whines about her mother's past. Are you ready the bear the truth of our lives?"_

_Enna regards me in silence for a long moment. "I don't know."_

_"Listen to your heart," I reply, my fingers braiding her hair just as Gran had once done to me._

_I listen to my own heart beat in the ancient primordial caves where I have made my home. Returning to the womb of the earth where all live is derived._

_"Tell me," Enna finally says._

_"It won't be easy," I warn._

_"I know. But this is part of my legacy," Enna replies, and I smile, drawing her back against me._

_"Get undressed, and get in the water," I say, climbing to my feet. I pass her a ribbon to tie up her long inky black hair, and I leave the kerchief on my head. We slink into the water, and when we are up to our shoulders, we settle on the stones beneath the still surface._

"I don't think you had a chance to meet the Scarecrow," the Joker said, giggling manically. "He'll-ah-be assisting."

"What?" I asked, my head whipping around to stare at the man, but before I could react, he grabbed me by the bicep and stuck me with a needle. Moments later, the world went dark.

When I came around again I was strapped to a table, my enormous stomach seemed so heavy I felt like I was suffocating. An IV was hooked up to my arm, and in the bag was a strange violet-colored liquid. I was restrained, and there was nothing I could do to get the hook out of my arm.

Then I dozed off again.

Three times a day, Harley came to feed me, giving me vitamins, but she never said a word, as for the Joker, if he was around me during the ordeal at all, I never saw him. The IV bags were apparently changed while I slept.

During this strange process, things began to happen to me. My hair fell out, and my eyesight faded until I was nearly blind. I probably would have cried, but the combination of hormones and drugs put me so far out of my mind that all I could do was howl with laughter when really I was screaming inside.

I don't know how long this went on for, days, months, weeks, hours, years, I had no way of knowing how much sand had slipped through the hourglass. Except that when the IV was finally removed from my elbow, I was as big as house. Harley helped me down off the table, and I fell to the floor.

"Shower, bathroom," I managed, and Harley helped me to my feet.

There were no mirrors down here, so I was pardoned the horror of looking at myself, and the only reassurances that everything was alright was your fluttering in my womb.

The shower unit was a large institutional shower, and the water pipes squealed and screamed before they sprang to life and I showered, washing every inch of my body. As the water ran into my face, the world slowly took shape again. I washed the grit out of my eyes and saw the grungy tile walls, and looked down at my enormous belly, the dark purple bands of my stretch marks running along my longitude as though I were some strange globe. Harley helped me into an enormous forest green maternity dress and a pair of flip flops; the only things that fit my swollen feet.

"Harley, I need you to get me out of here," I whispered, grabbing her by the shoulders, and staring into her face desperately. "Joker's going to kill his own child."

She looked conflicted. "Mistah J wouldn't like that very much."

"I wouldn't care he was doing this to me if a kid wasn't involved. I can feel her moving inside of me; I need a real doctor, not the Scarecrow. I need to get out of Gotham. I know you want to be with the Joker, this is your shot, as long as I'm around, all his attention will be on me," I said desperately, and this seemed to be the right thing to say.

"He'll be back in a few hours, but I can only get you on the Metro, the rest is on you," Harley said, slowly agreeing.

Getting out from under Arkham was an ordeal, and I waddled along as fast as I could, running my hands nervously over my fuzzy head. The edges on the world were still fuzzy and out of focus. My feet ached from the seemingly endless trip until finally we broke out into the daylight, and Harley pressed a metro card into my hand.

"It's good for one ride," she said nervously. "Now go, I can handle the Joker, you need to get the hell outta dodge Cookie."

"Thanks Harl, you're an angel," I replied, kissed her cheek before heading for the metro.

I had one ride, and I had to use it wisely. So I turned to the only person crazy enough to help me.

An hour and a half later I waddled up the long drive to Bruce Wayne's house and rang the bell. After a few long moments, Alfred came to the door and he paused, staring at me in shock.

"Miss Brita, what are you doing here?" He asked in shock.

"I need to see Bruce, is he home?" I asked desperately.

"You disappeared three months ago," Alfred started, staring at my enormous pregnant belly. "Come in, I'll go get him."

Alfred saw me into a sitting room and that was the first time I saw myself since the Joker had given me his final hurrah.

I approached the gilt frame mirror and stared at myself for a long time.

_Getting up, I go to a crook in the stone, and retrieve a simple, white bar of soap._

_"Mama," Enna remarks. "That's not the soap you always made me use."_

_"I know," I say, placing the floating dish in the water. "It's time you know the truth."_

_Lifting my hands up, I untie the knot at the base of my skull and draw the kerchief off my head, revealing long, dark, unearthly green locks of hair that slithered down my shoulders and back._

_"I-I don't understand," Enna says, staring at me in confusion._

_"The cocktail of drugs the Joker and Scarecrow gave us changed our physiology. It's why my hair fell out and grew in green. The soap I always insisted you used was infused with henna, to make your hair black, as mine once was. We are the products of madness Enna," I explain, gazing sadly at my daughter. "Now come here."_

_"No. . . Mama, you're scaring me, stop this, my hair is black," Enna insists desperately._

_"No baby, it isn't," I reply._

_"Just because you turned into some horrible freak doesn't mean I did!" She yells, her horrible words reverberating off the stone walls._

_I grab my daughter and smack her hard across the face. "You wanted to know the story of who you really are Enna. You thought the story wouldn't effect you, but everything you are is impacted by who and what your mother is, as is the case with all children. Do not tear me down in an effort to bring yourself up. Now come here and face what you really are like a woman."_

_"Mama, I'm scared," Enna whispers, as tears begin to fall from her eyes, and I open my arms. She hides inside my embrace while she weeps, our bellies and breasts pressed up against each other._

_We stay like that for a long time until wordlessly, Enna pulls away and settles herself on one of the sitting stones. I start to wash her hair, watching the river of black flood away towards the pour-off of the lake at the other end of the cavern. Softly, I begin to sing in Faroe, old old folk songs, and by the time I am done singing, my daughter has the same unearthly shade of green on her head._

_We dress silently that night, and only when we lie down on our mats to sleep does Enna speak again. "Go on, tell me what happened next."_

_"Well, Bruce came in in a hurry," I began, counting my breathes by the rhythm of the storm outside._

"Brita, what happened to you? Oh, my. . . " He said, concern and worry plain on his face.

"Bruce, I need you to help me, please," I begged, taking his hands in mine. "The Joker did something to me, I don't know what, but my hair fell out and I went blind for a time, and the only reason I know my kid is still alive is because I can feel her moving. . . I need you to get me out of Gotham."

Bruce stared at me for a long time. So long I wondered if he had heard what I had said, and I almost quailed when he didn't respond right away.

"Brita," he murmured, his hand coming up to cradle the green fuzz on my head and I bowed my head under his caress, but he simply lifted my chin and kissed me. With all the longing, passion and desire he had pent up in him he filled me with his desire, and soon I found myself responding, caught in the normalcy of my desire I let the fire he was producing consume me. And then, just like that, it was over.

Half an hour later I was sitting in a guest room, surrounded by doctors who took blood and checked my heart rate and blood pressure and checked on my baby. When they finally withdrew to complete the tests, Bruce came in to help me sit up, and then I was questioned by the police. I told them everything, around the drainage pipe and the rooms beneath Arkham where I was put through hell. I told them about the pornographic mansion, about Sam and the crimes against him. I told them about my part in the Arkham breakout, and the stolen jewels I wore the night I found David in bed with another woman.

The only thing I didn't tell them was about my summers spent sitting on the fire escape, eating popsicles and rubbing our bare toes against the greasy painted metal. Or the deep affection that Jack and I shared for one another.

And when they finally left, I was allowed to sleep. When I rose, I bathed. a proper shower, followed by a proper meal. I wore one of Bruce's shirts and pajama bottoms with the expandable waist. Even that much had my belly button sticking out at the apex of my equator.

I waddled barefoot through the long halls of the mansion until I came across Bruce in his study. When he saw me leaning the doorway, he leaned back from his work and regarded me for a long moment.

"It's time, isn't it?" Bruce asked gently.

"Gran would never forgive me if I stayed one second longer in Gotham. I've a house in the Faroe Islands waiting for me Bruce. And I'm due in six weeks. It's time," I said gently.

I was expecting an argument, but instead, Bruce put down his pen and nodded once, solemnly. "I'll ready the jet."

_"You know the rest," I say softly into the darkness._

_"I was born, five weeks later, on the night of the worst storm of the decade," Enna says softly._

_"I gave birth alone, in the bathtub, with the 'Stones' playing on the old record player," I reply, smiling at the memory. "You were born during 'Jumping Jack Flash'. And when you were born, I cleaned you off and latched you to a breast, and smiled down into your dark eyes and sighed over the tuft of green hair on your head."_

_"Mama, what does Arkham want with you?" Enna asks, as she has been asking._

_"The Joker has been asking for me," I reply. "It's time we leave the caves and return to the house. We leave for Gotham in three days' time._


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Sorry it's taken so long to update, I had to go back and revamp some of the chapters. I'm trying to get the Joker more spot on, so I've been tweaking some stuff. No major plot twists, just a little character changes to make him more like the Joker from the movie.**

**Thanks everyone for their reviews and comments, please keep them coming! I love the feedback.**

Please note that everything is present tense now, and will no longer be italicized.

Enna and I walked through Gotham International Airport, and I paused to stare around me for a long moment. Enna seemed perfectly happy and at ease in this new Gotham, but I have been gone for 15 years, and I was slow to jump into the fray before me. I watched Enna walk away and for a moment, panic seizing me, but then she turned back, her shiny, freshly dyed black hair was piled on her head in a stately manner.

"Come on Mama, it's okay," she said comfortingly in our native tongue, and I took her arm. On the metro I relaxed, this was the Gotham I knew, and it occurred to me the deeper we travelled into the City, that the changes that had been made were only on the surface.

I dropped Enna off at her school and paused on the sidewalk, looking around me for a moment. Then, with resolution, I turned and headed for the Metro, taking the green line down into the Narrows. My grandmother had owned her apartment and left it to me, and I was returning to the first home I had ever known.

When I reached the short narrow brick building, crammed in between two other taller buildings, I smiled nervously at the wino who seemed to live on the front stoop before pushing my way into the old building. The lobby had been repainted, the letter boxes replaced, but it was still the same building. The elevator was still out of order, and I was delighted to discover some things never change.

I trudged up the staircase with my heavy bags in hand until I reached Gran's apartment and pushed into the silent space. It was completely undisturbed save for the bedroom.

There, on the night table, stood Gran's urn. And laid out on the bed was the black dress and stolen jewelry. The inky black pannier hung on the closet door.

Tears stung my eyes, and I hurried forward, hugging the urn tightly to my breast and sighing with delight.

"Oh Gran, I'm so sorry I left you behind. I'm so sorry you had to stay here alone all these years, but it's okay now, everything's going to be okay. I'm going to finish up my business and then return to Faroe with you safely in tow," I murmured, stroking the urn with familiarity.

When I placed Gran back on the nightstand I turned to face the dress and jewels that were laid out on the bed. I had so much unfinished business with this town, and now that I was here, I couldn't even think where to begin. I supposed I had to go and see Bruce Wayne, and of course, I had my date with the Joker. I stared at the old avocado colored rotary phone on the kitchen wall for a long time before I picked it up and plucked out the numbers for Arkham Asylum and made my appointment for the next day.

Then I called Wayne Enterprises and after an argument with his secretary was put through.

"Good afternoon Bruce," I said tiredly. "It's Brita."

"Brita, is it really you?" He breathed into the phone. "When I didn't hear from you, I thought-"

"I so wanted to write, but I went into labor shortly after arriving home, and then I had a baby and things fell by the wayside. And after a while, it just seemed strange," I said thoughtfully.

"But you're here now," Bruce said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"More than just a ghost from the past," I said with a smile of my own.

"How long are you back for?" Bruce asked.

"I'm not really sure," I said thoughtfully, looking around me at the filthy apartment.

"Would you like to get dinner tomorrow night?" Bruce asked, and I thought of my upcoming date with the Joker tomorrow.

I pursed my lips and forced the rising tide of panic to subside. "Dinner sounds fantastic, how does 8pm sound?"

"8 sounds fantastic, I'll pick you up," he said jovially before I relayed my home address.

When we rang off, I turned and surveyed all that I was the queen of. Sighing deeply, I grabbed my bag and went back out into the world.

Four hours later I returned to the apartment with paint, tarps, and an arsenal of cleaning supplies. Putting everything down, I tackled the apartment with singleminded determination, scrubbing the floors, walls, toilet and bathtub and sink and counters until they gleamed. I washed the old painted kitchen table and chairs before I tackled the closets, pulling out a lifetime of clothing that had belong to me and Gran and even my mother.

I put everything into garbage bags except for the things I couldn't bear to get rid of. My family's jewelry, my grandmother's mink coat, my mother's good hat and her vintage Mahnolo Blahniks (we wore the same size). This took me back out into the world again to the nearest donation site, and when I returned to the apartment, I pulled the furniture away from the walls and laid out the tarps and put masking tape on the borders. I good layer of primer went on over the walls in the main living space and the bathroom, and then I went to bed. Sleeping in the ancient bed and promising myself a new mattress as soon as I was done painting.

The next morning I woke early and started painting. My living room became a beautiful grayish yellow with white trim. Smiling at the effect, I went to bath and dress, taking my time to dress my sea green hair into a stately chignon before placing my thick white kerchief on my head. I dressed in a calf length white linen skirt and a violet blouse. I donned my mother's Blahnik's, and set out into the world with my clutch under one arm. I splurged on a cab and took it to Arkham, presenting my ID at reception, I waited nervously for Dr. Leland to come and meet me.

"Miss Sigrunardóttir, I was hoping that we could discuss the Joker's case if you had a few moments," the woman began and I stopped and stared into her face.

"I came because he asked me too. I'm not interested in discussing his mental stability. I came to see what he wanted, to see if he was ready to meet his daughter," I said firmly, staring into her face and demanding her to challenge me.

"D-Daughter?" The woman gasped.

"Yes, I am the mother of the Joker's daughter. He's never met her, so she's safe for now, but after she meets him, she'll be coming home with me, and attending private school in Eysturoy. For both of our peace of minds," I said firmly.

"Well, if you're ready," the doctor said, no longer sure what to make of me.

I followed her through the familiar halls, until we turned into the men's side of the ward, and I clutched my bag a little more tightly in my hands. We journeyed through security check after security check until I was finally brought to a glass walled cell with the Joker standing on the other side.

When we were finally left alone, we regarded one another for a long moment, trying to measure one another.

"Well well well, it's about time you answered my calls," he said, studying me closely. "How ya' been doll face?"

I didn't have an answer for him, so I just stood there, staring at him.

"Brita, you're-ah-not being very polite," he finally said.

Sighing, feeling at a loss, I lifted my hands to my head and untied the knots on my kerchief. Drawing off the thick piece of fabric and exposing my exotic head of hair, I folded the cloth into my handbag, and then turned my violet eyes sharply on the Joker, whose tongue snaked out and lapped at the scars around his mouth.

"Why did you ask me here?" I asked, careful not to use his real name, in case someone was listening to our conversation.

He seemed taken aback by my hair for a moment, and then he leaned his head back and howled with laughter. He was so overtaken by laughter that he probably would've fallen over backwards if the chair hadn't been bolted to the floor.

I watched in a sort of numb horror as he stalked up to the glass. "I asked you here, because I want to meet my daughter. Something I shouldn't even have to ask for."

I swallowed. "No. You turned me into a monster. I don't feel anything anymore thanks to you. You changed our daughter enough, before either of us even got to meet her you changed her forever. You were a shit father then and you haven't changed a bit."

"Who are you to deny me our child?" He roared, licking his lips and running his hands through his hair.

"Who are you to demand her!" I railed back. "You were the one drugging me and our daughter for months on end. You killed Sam! I can't even begin to guess what you did to Harley! Don't you dare talk to me about Enna, I am her mother and her father and I was even Santa Claus, so don't give me your crap!"

"Enna," he said, tasting her name. "What a boring name."

"Gran chose it," I said defensively, and saw him back off. Gran seemed to be a port in the storm for Jack, he didn't seem prepared to mar her memory.

"Bring her here Brita, bring me my daughter so I can at least see her," he said cruelly, his long fingers splayed across the thick glass.

"No, you'll only hurt her like you hurt me," I said. "I came here to see you Joker, to show you that despite your best efforts, we've survived you. Have a good day Joker."

I turned and walked back down the hall, pulling out the scarf from my bag.

Dr. Leland watched me rewrap my hair as I approached her. "I don't want him to see my daughter."

"Would you mind answering a few questions for me?" She asked, brushing her short black hair behind her ear.

"Err, no," I said, following her out of the men's ward and down several halls before we reached her office.

We settled ourselves around her desk.

"Would you mind if I asked about your hair?" Dr. Leland asked tentatively.

"I filed a report with the police before I left the country to have my daughter. The Joker and Scarecrow, well, they performed some experiments on me that had a last effect on myself and our daughter," I said.

"Does your daughter show any of the - idiosyncrasies that her father does?" Leland asked carefully.

"No, Enna is in perfect health, top her class at Gotham Prep," I replied.

"Does she share your. . . distinctive coloring?" Leland asked, and I appreciated her attempt at sounding not judgmental.

"Yes, we were kind of a package deal at the time," I asked wearily. "Look, if you asked me here to grill me about my daughter-"

"No, no, it's not like that. I was just wondering if you would be willing to answer some questions about the Joker," Leland asked.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know as much as you think I do," I replied warily, somehow still unwilling to break trust after all these years.

"But you had his child," Leland started.

"People get pregnant with the children of total strangers all the time, I'm no different, I just fell into unfortunate circumstances. I'm sorry Dr. Leland, I appreciate what you're trying to do. But what's happening here is a family matter, and I need to see my daughter before my dinner with Bruce Wayne tonight, excuse me."

I got up and left her office, sweeping past the orderlies and nurses before emerging into the crisp autumn air.

I hailed and cab and took it to Gotham Prep, requesting my daughter. I pulled her out of class and we went to a local bakery and I bought us a cupcake to share and some tea.

"I went to visit your father today," I said after a long moment.

"What did he say?" Enna asked, weighing her words carefully.

"He wants to meet you," I replied, trying to be as neutral as possible.

I watched Enna mull it over, and had a terrible feeling something wicked was coming this way.

"Maybe I should meet my father," Enna said carefully.

"Gotham City is notorious for it's criminals, and your father is the king pin Enna. If this is something that you really feel you need to do, then understand it can never be taken back. The consequences will be irreversible, and frankly your father has already done the unthinkable."

"Ma," Enna pleaded, and I sighed deeply. She really was my daughter. We always had to do things the hard way.

"Well, sleep on it and we'll figure it out in the morning," I sighed, rubbing my eyes.

Half an hour later I checked her back into school and returned to my apartment to finish painting my bathroom (shell pink), and then my bedroom, which was going to be seagrass green.

So I painted and primed until an hour before Bruce was due and I cleaned myself up and dressed in a simple black dress and pumps, again, placing my hair under a scarlet handkerchief, I put on a few gold bangles and some gold hoop earrings. Leaving my pumps and bag by the door, I pulled on my painter's smock, and started rolling green paint onto the bedroom walls.

When the bell rang an hour later, I wrapped the roller in foil, sealed the paint can, and peeled off the gloves and smock, pulling on my shoes and grabbing my bag, I ran out the door.

Downstairs, Bruce stood by a gorgeous Italian car looking dapper as always and we smiled affectionately at each other when I appeared. I strode up to him and kissed him lingeringly on the lips.

"Mmm, I've missed that, you always did taste like the ocean," he murmured, drawing me in for a second kiss, and I smiled indulgently.

When we arrived at the restaurant, it was like nothing had changed. We were old friends and we chatted and laughed the night away, and when Bruce dropped me off that night, with the promise of a second date, I stole away back up to my apartment to finish painting the bedroom before falling into an exhausted sleep.

I woke the next morning to study my freshly painted home and then pulled on a pair of jeans and a tank top and headed out to get some new furniture. I bought appliances, new fixtures for the cabinets, lamps, a new mattress and bed frame, a new dresser, paintings, mirrors, dishes, everything I needed to make a home for myself before returning to the apartment and let the movers in, watching them take away the old couch, dresser, and bed.

I spent the afternoon arranging my furniture before settling onto the couch with a beer in hand to survey my new home. Then I wandered into the bedroom and pulled out the old black dress. Feeling a little drunk, I dropped my clothes onto the floor and donned the pannier and dress, and the glittering diamonds. My hands travelled up to my kerchief and I pulled the material off of my head, drawing out the pin and loosing my curls down my back.

I closed my eyes, remembering that seemingly endless night so many years ago.

My doorbell rang a moment later and I cursed when I saw the clock. It was Bruce for our date, and turned, I wrenched open the ties on the dress and pulled it off, removing the diamonds and dropping them into the velvet bag, shoving it into the back of my closet. I ran to the intercom, telling him I'd be down in a minute. Sprinting back across the living room and into the bedroom, I hurtled past Gran to the dresser where I pulled out a long cotton maxi dress and pulled it on before donning a pair of sandals. Then I shoved my things into my straw purse, and ran for the door, wrapping my hair as I went.

I locked the door and ran down the stairs, nearly killing myself as I tied the knot at the back of my head while sprinting down the steps. Then I pulled open the door and crashed into Bruce.

"Sorry, I was just finishing up some last minute renovations," I sighed.

"You're renovating your apartment?" He asked with interest and I nodded.

"It hasn't been lived in in almost twenty years, so I'm giving it the love it deserves, painting it and updating everything," I replied as we headed for the car.

"So I thought we'd go and see Casablanca in the park," he said, motioning to the picnic basket that was packed in the back and I couldn't help but smile.

"Picnic sounds great," I replied, grinning broadly.

We drove in silence for a little bit, and then Bruce surprised me.

"So I've got a party at work coming up, it's something I do for halloween every year. It's a masked ball, and I was wondering if you would care to be my date," Bruce hedged.

I thought about my dress, and the stolen diamonds, and smiled sweetly to myself. "I'd love too."

"Great, it's a date then," he replied, sounding immensely pleased.

Several days later I stood in front of Gotham Prep, staring up at the gothic spires and gargoyles that adorned the buildings. The grounds were perfectly manicured, and across the lawn the chorus was practicing the school's anthem in Latin.

I wore a black blouse and black tea length skirt with black pumps. Clothes for the mourning. When I picked up Enna in the principals office, I took in her hunter green cloak, and her black skirt and navy shirt. We gazed at each other for a long moment before heading to Arkham.

The ride in the cab was quiet and dark stormy clouds were building up on the horizon. When we were deposited at the doors of the asylum. When I had paid the cab I turned to my daughter and brushed the hair out of her face.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" I asked her patiently.

"No," she replied honestly.

"Well, at least you know. We could end up being abducted, or worse," I pointed out.

"I know Ma, I know this could go horribly wrong. I don't know why I need to do this, but I do," Enna said.

"Okay, as long as you're sure," I replied, not entirely sold on my actions.

Once we got through reception and security, an orderly lead us silently through the long halls. We were stopped inside the men's ward by Harvey Dent himself coming down the long towards us in his Arkham scrubs.

"Look at you gorgeous broads, come to spend an afternoon with us?" He crooned.

"Shut up Dent," said one of the orderlies, prodding him into his cell.

We followed the orderly down the hall, past a man who kindly asked Enna a riddle. I merely narrowed my eyes at the exchange. As she gave him an answer.

When we finally reached the Joker's cell the orderly looked at us for a moment then walked off back towards the security area.

"Well well well, what do we have here. Finally broke down eh Brita?" the Joker asked, leering at Enna through the glass.

"Actually I asked to see you," Enna said boldly.

We both turned a raised eyebrow on our daughter.

"Ooh really," the Joker said, gleefully enunciating his excitement. "What a delightfully delirious turn of events. I see your mother's been dying your hair."

I snorted my laughter and Enna had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Well-ah-at least one of you is laughing," the Joker said, gazing at Enna with dark intensity. The look on his face sobered me, and Enna went deathly white.

"Okay, that's enough, come on Enna, we're getting out of here," I said, reaching out and taking her hand. I almost had to carry the girl down the hall and when we got outside she collapsed against me.

"I had no idea Mama," she wept, holding me tight against her.

"I know baby, I know," I murmured, stroking her hair.

"I want to go home, to Faroe," she murmured. "I can finish school there."

"Come on, let's go home and we'll figure something out," I murmured gently.


	16. Chapter 16

That Saturday I ran around my apartment frantically trying to get ready for the ball. All we had been nervous about the Joker showing up and spiriting us away, but so far things had been quiet.

Enna sat on the sofa watching me run around with Gran sitting on the coffee table next to her. The two of them watched me pull on my tights and pannier, lacing it up. They silently witnessed my careful make-up application, and then my hair dressing. Tonight I wouldn't cover my hair, I piled it on my head in an elaborate up-do, wrapping a chain of glittering stones through my hair.

When I was finished and dressed, I stared at myself for a long moment, wondering about the finishing touch when it just popped into my memory, and smiling, I went to the dresser and pulled out an old cotton bag. Enna watched me carefully, and I saw her eyes widen when I pulled out the little domino mask.

"Nurse Betty," Enna whispered, and I started laughing, then kissed her on the forehead.

"I can't imagine what Bruce'll say when he sees this," I said thoughtfully.

A knock came on the door and Enna and I froze, staring at the front door.

"Get it Enna," I directed as I went to the mirror and put on my earrings. I listened carefully to the conversation in the next room.

"So you're. . . " Bruce started.

"Yeah," Enna breathed.

"You're just as beautiful as your mother," he said, and the girl giggled.

Taking a last look at myself in the mirror, I slipped my feet into my mother's old pumps and walked into the living room.

Bruce wasn't wearing his mask yet, but when he saw me he nearly fell over.

"Good evening Bruce," I said, smiling gently, putting the pieces together until I reached a conclusion that both shocked and pleased me. "I hope you don't mind, but we need to drop Enna off at the Abbot Street convent, Enna will be spending the night amongst the sisters."

Enna had hated me when I told her she would be joining my old friend Jillian in the convent for the evening. But I couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was going to be the night the Joker would come for me, and I couldn't bear the thought of Enna getting caught up in the problems I had with her father. Enna had screamed and yelled, and in the end I smacked her across the face and told her to act her age. It wasn't our best night, to be sure.

"Why?" Bruce asked, his initial shock wavering in the face of my parenting.

"Because I have a feeling that the Joker is coming for me tonight," I said sadly. "And I need to know that Enna will be safe."

"Then we don't we skip the ball?" Bruce asked, regaining his usual charm.

"You have to be there Mr. CEO, and I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself. Even if the Joker does take me again, I'll be fine," I said, feeling the most peaceful I had in years.

"He kidnapped you and tested chemicals on you and your daughter Brita," Bruce replied harshly, and I wrapped my arms around my daughter, holding her close, trying to protect her from the cruel truth of Bruce's words.

"Yes, we know," I said, sobering Bruce instantly. "But it doesn't matter if I'm here or at the ball, either way, he will come for me, and I'd like to know that Enna is taken care of and safe in the event that that happens. The convent is under his radar. He already knows what she looks like. But she has a shot at safety there. And if you don't help me get her to safety, the chances he'll get us together are painfully high."

We watched him desperately weigh what I had said, and finally he nodded and held out both his hands, an unspoken agreement, we each took an arm, laughing as we went down the stairs and out into the night. A short drive later, and I found myself standing inside the gates of the convent, with Jillian on one side of me and Enna on the other. The mother superior stood there, clucking gentle reassurances that no one would harm or reach Enna during my absence, no matter how long. Kissing and hugging my daughter goodbye, I turned and walked away. I had to trust Enna to take care of herself.

When we arrived at the ball, we made quite a stir, and a murmur ran through the crowd of well-dressed aristocrats at the sight of dark green hair, alabaster skin, and violet eyes. But Bruce was polite and well-mannered, and never said or did anything to indicate my place on his arm was anything less than a welcome privilege. We danced and dined together, and just as the speeches for the evening were about to commence, the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun being fired broke the air, and I rose from my seat while everyone else around me tried to climb under their chairs.

"Brita, come out come out wherever you are!" The Joker crooned. "You're hiding our daughter from me and I don't like it. Not. One. Bit."

Taking off my mask, I stood there for a moment before walking across the black and red checkerboard marble floor. I started to laugh, softly at first, and then louder and more and more hysterically until the eery howls echoed off the elaborately carved marble walls, and I turned slowly to face the Joker.

"This isn't about Enna Joker. And you know it," I said firmly, almost madly, and he stopped in his tracks.

"Enna?" He asked inquisitively, licking his scars.

"Yes. Our daughter's full name is Enna Marjun Jackdóttir," I said quietly.

"Jackdóttir" he said, tasting the unfamiliar word in his mouth. "Jack's dead."

"Yes," I said patiently. "I know."

"Good, then I won't have to tell you what happens next," he said, neatly throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me from the room, laughing maniacally. The last thing I saw before the view of the room was out of sight was Bruce staring up at me with such sympathy I nearly started to cry.

I could hear the Joker's heavy breathing and I wondered if he regretted giving me a pannier to wear. It had served it's purpose once beautifully, hiding the Joker's men underneath it. But it was utterly impractical to be carried around in. Then the clunking of van doors being opened. I was shoved inside, skirts and all, and the door was slammed behind me. Looking around frantically at all the doors, and seeing that they had no handles on the inside, I began to get desperate. I couldn't move in this dress, but I couldn't exactly take it off and try to escape naked. I'd be raped and murdered within seconds, and I couldn't take off the pannier without removing the dress first. So there I sat, caged in by my own dress, enduring another frantic ride through the streets of Gotham.

I kept silent during the entire drive, and when we reached an old decrepit warehouse, he parked and pulled open the van doors and hauled me out. I stood in the cool night air and shivered before he grabbed me by the bicep and dragged me into the warehouse where several guys sat on couches around an old black and white television set.

"Boys? This is Brita. She belongs to me. If any of you so much as look at her funny, I will kill you, got it?" The Joker asked, and the men all nodded mutely. "Good."

Another breathless run up a flight of stairs and I was shoved into an office that had been converted into a bedroom. The Joker grabbed my purse out of my hands and slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone in a concrete tomb.

I sank onto the oriental rug that covered the concrete floor, my skirts pooling around me in an inky black oval. I hung my head, a few green curls fell around my face.

And finally, after a lifetime of holding my breath, I started to cry. I cried for the death of my friend Jack, I cried for the daughter I might never see again, and I cried for the grandmother I was never able to return to Faroe, and mostly, I cried for the woman I had become. Ever since the Joker had tested on me, I had a slightly unstable edge, and I was just as wont to turn on the Joker as I was on anyone else. Although I had always tried to protect Enna from the truth of what her father had made me into, I could no longer deny the fact that I was losing my shit. So I sat there, trapped in the the Joker's clutches and sobbing into my dress like a little girl.

I cried and screamed and pounded my fists on the floor until my hands were bruised and bloody. I screamed the horrors that the Joker had put me through and I shrieked the terrible story of our daughters birth, the truth of which I had kept from everyone, even Enna. She didn't know that I had almost died, giving birth to her alone in our tiny house on the kitchen floor village during the worst storm of the decade. After an hour of screaming the door slammed open and the Joker came in in a rage.

"Kill me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Kill me now!"

I pushed myself to my feet, standing at almost 6 feet in those heels, I was only a couple inches shorter than the Joker. "You did this to me! Now end it! End it now!"

"Umm-no-I still need you Brita," the Joker replied, and I quailed. Twenty years ago he would have asked me what was wrong. And that's when I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was alone in this, and no one would help me, could help me, and the only person I could rely on was myself.

"You don't need me Joker, you never did," I railed, utterly livid.

"Well-umm-no, that's not true," he started, but I cut him off.

"God! I gave you everything! I gave up my college education, I gave up the piano, I gave up spending the last of my grandmother's days with her because of you! I gave you a daughter you don't deserve to have! A daughter you aren't worthy of knowing! I gave you everything Joker and I have nothing left to give!" I yelled, slamming my hands down hard on his shoulders and trying to push him away from me in the process. "You don't give anything back, you just take take take. Well I'm done, so just end it Joker. Because that's all you are, you're not a man, you're just a joke."

I knew I should've regretted my words the moment I said them, but I didn't. I knew I should have apologized and tried to take it back, but I felt so old. And I was done apologizing for what I was feeling to everyone around me. Dammit, I felt what I felt for a reason, and I didn't think I should have to apologize for that!

What followed my tirade was horrible silence for a long moment, but instead of striking me or doing something even more horrible, he reached out a hand and stroked my face with such tenderness a tear fell down my cheek and I couldn't help but remember a terrible feeling of helplessness and loss.

"Good, good, you're coming along beautifully," the Joker said, his voice was calm, soothing even and I flinched under his touch. "You see Brita, I-ah-gave you the greatest gift of all, you just don't know it yet. So rest up toots, because the best is yet to come. So don't say I never gave you anything. Now put on the clothes in the wardrobe and come downstairs."

Leaving me alone, I went to the wardrobe and scoffed at the clothes he had left me. Instead I dropped the dress onto the floor and pulled on the jeans he had provided, but I pulled on one of his shirts instead, the heavy material felt good against my shoulders and the length was good. When I went to the mirror, I fluffed up the collar and unbutton a couple buttons to accentuate the diamond necklace I was afraid to take off. I giggled at the thought of what the Joker was going to do to me when he saw me, and for a horrible instant I wondered if becoming as sick as twisted as he was was what he meant by a "gift".

"Come on cookie," I muttered, strapping some steel onto my backbone, I opened the door and walked down the hall towards the stairs, my mother's pumps clicking on the steel floor. I descended the stairs and walked out into the great room and smiled when I saw the look on the Joker's face. It was a mixture of shock, rage, and appreciation, and I stood just a little bit taller and prouder at the emotions I was provoking.

What was I thinking? Why was I trying to provoke the most dangerous man in Gotham? What was happening to me?

"Brita," the Joker said, sounding a little brittle, although I was sure I was the only one who could tell.

"Joker," I responded calmly and cooly.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked dangerously.

"What do _I_ think I'm doing? You made me into this, you tell me," I responded with confidence.

When he hit me, I didn't even know he had struck me until I landed on the ground several feet away tasting metallic blood in my mouth. I started laughing, then coughing on the blood in my throat, and when I spat, one of my premolars flew out of my mouth and hit the ground in two pieces.

"That's right baby," I said huskily. "Come on now and kill Mama, you know you want too."

The henchmen behind the Joker shifted uneasily and eyed me warily, but the Joker just grinned. "That's more like it."

He started walking towards me, but I grabbed a broken chair leg and swung it at his legs, knocking his feet out from under him. I heaved myself to my feet and prepared to bring the chair leg down on his head when I felt cold steel being pressed into the soft spot at the base of my skull.

"Drop the chair leg," the greasy voice of the henchman said.

"Or else what?" I demanded, intent on the kill.

"Or else this," the Joker said, and fired the gun.

I felt like I had been splashed with freezing cold water and I stood there, gasping in horror as the bullet zinged past my head and into the head of the man behind me. I dropped the chair leg and collapsed to the floor, coming back into my rational self.

I was shaking violently, rocking back and forth. Left alone while the henchmen cleaned up the body and the Joker strode away from me, laughing with cruel delight. And when the men had disappeared into various other parts of the hideout, I slunk away towards the stairs and back up to the bedroom where I slipped off the shoes and the jeans, removing my jewelry and leaving it on the nightstand, I loosed my hair and washed my face in the dirty little bathroom that was adjacent to the bedroom, then I crawled between the familiar purple and green sheets and curled up into a little ball and hid.

Hours later when I heard the Joker's heavy footfalls coming up the stairs, I curled up even more tightly in on myself, determined to protect myself from the inevitable. I heard him open and then close and lock the door, heard rustling and running water before lights were flicked off, and then the weight of his body in the bed next to mine.

When he made no effort to touch me, I started to relax a little stretching out my legs and shifting my weight. I laid there for a long time, staring into the darkness and listening to his breathing. I heard the moment his settled into the deep rhythm of sleep, while I laid awake until the stirrings of daylight and then fell asleep into a dreary fitful few hours of sleep.

When I woke the next morning, I was alone again, and I thought of Enna. She knew to stay put at the convent until I came for her, and not to leave no matter what. I had reached a def-con 5 level of protection when it came to her, and my instincts gave me the strength I needed to get up and face the day.

I pulled on the jeans and pumps, tying the ends of the Joker's shirt off, so that a little bit of my stomach was exposed. In the bathroom I wrinkled my nose at my reflection and used the Joker's unused hairbrush to fluff out my hair. When I felt remotely like a human being again, I went to the door and surprisingly it opened. Shrugging, I walked out into the hall and down the stairs into the empty warehouse. A little poking around proved that I was alone, but when I went to the heavy main door to go outside, I found myself locked inside.

Pursing my lips in irritation, I turned and began walking through the Joker's hideout looking for another way out. The windows were high up on the walls with no way to reach them, and the windows in the bedroom were reinforced with chicken wire. Pushing open one of the doors, I found myself in an office and on the table was a thick binder filled with paper covered in ragged handwriting.

These were the Joker's plans! I realized and looking around me nervously, folded up the binder tightly against my chest and began poking around until. . . . Eureka! A manhole.

Pushing the cover aside, I climbed down onto the ladder, resting the binder between my stomach and one of the rungs, I pulled the cover back over the hole as the sounds of the massive warehouse door being opened reached me. I could hear the Joker calling for me, and I ducked my head, climbed down the rest of the ladder and stole away into the dingy sewer.

I ran for what felt like an eternity until I broke out into a massive chamber. There were tunnels all over with signs marking where they lead too. This was the run off for Gotham City, where water was spit out into the harbor. When I saw the sign for Wayne Industries, I ran around the girth of the chamber to the ladder and climbed down it, sprinting down the dank hall, the binder trapped firmly in my arms.

When I reached a door with the distinctive 'W' on it, I pushed the latch and was surprised when the door swung open on silent hinges. I stood there for a moment, staring into the darkened space. When the voices calling for me reached my ears, echoing down the long corridors, I hurried inside and shut the door behind me. Holding the immense binder under one arm, I felt my way to a wall and then followed it along until I felt the ridges of a light switch.

Flicking it on, massive florescent lights lit up, flooding the room with harsh artificial light. All around me were huge tubs, at least 15 feet across running in four columns down the length of the enormous room and all of them were filled with acid green liquid. Standing there, I flashed back on a moment years earlier.

_I lay on the bed feeling groggy and confused. I watched the Scarecrow as though I were a third person standing in the room attach a bag of acid green liquid to my IV drip. A strange insignia of a 'W' printed on the bag. . ._

Coming back to myself, I thought of Bruce and wondered if he was aware of just what his company was doing under his nose. Or if he had been courting me all along to meet some means to an end. I circled the room slowly, looking at the catwalks that ran over the tanks, at the diagnostic equipment that stood on a platform at the far end of the room where I could just make out the outline of a door in the shadows. I started striding across the room, past the gently bubbling tanks of green ooze. One of my hands moved up to smooth back my own head of green hair and then I paused, feeling sheepish at the gesture.

When I reached the stairs, I climbed up them, a feeling of grim unease had settled over me and I looked around warily before approaching the controls. They seemed to be broken or out of order, so I turned and headed for the door. It was an old water tight door with a massive turn-handle, so I put the Joker's binder down on the floor and turned the enormous wheel until the door squeaked open. Grabbing the binder off the floor, I was sliding the door home as the Joker and his henchmen pushed into the room. I couldn't quite suppress the sound of the door squeaking and they started yelling and running at the door. Wrenching it shut and jamming an errant 2x4 against the door, I took off down the hall in as fast a run as I could manage in those shoes. I pulled on locked doors until I reached the end of the hall. Muttering a silent prayer, I tried the door and miraculously it pushed open.

I crept inside and closed the door behind me, but when I turned around, I nearly vomited.

The room was dark and warm and moist, and the air had a sickly sweet smell. In the middle of the room was a wide hospital bed. Handcuffed to the bed was an enormously pregnant girl who couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen. Her head was shaved and metal hoses rose from her head up in the shadows of the ceiling. She was screaming with the efforts of labor, pushing hard and I watched in horror as a gelatinous pod with dark red angry veins slowly slithered out of her; the shadows of _something_ moving inside.

I looked around frantically for another way out, and when I saw an open door at the other end of the room, I glanced around me, feeling at a loss. Then something caught my eye. Around the perimeter of the room was a false wall, with a foot of clearance between the false wall and the concrete wall. I crept between the layers, careful to make the sounds of my shoes as soft as possible. I was about eight feet into the small passage when I happened to look up.

A few inches above my head were the same gelatinous pods. Clamping a hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp, I forced myself to keep my head low and to keep going. When I was halfway through the room, the door I had just come through slammed open, and I watched in horror as the Joker himself strode into the room, causing the girl to start and then she began to scream.

"Are you the reaper?" She begged to know.

I watched between the slats in horror as the Joker turned to face her. "No. . . . what is this place?"

"I don't know, I was kidnapped and they-they did things to me, put things in my brain, operated on me, help me please! You can kill me, you can end this!" She shrieked. "Please, before they come back!"

I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out.

The Joker motioned with his gun to one of the henchmen. "You do the honors."

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle my cry when he shot her in the head.

My mind was reeling, I didn't know what to think anymore.

Then the gelatinous ooze the girl had given birth to slipped under the wall and slid between my ankles. Before I could stop myself, I let out a scream and tore out from behind the back wall, dropping the binder as I bolted for the door on the other side of the room.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

The previously gelatinous pods seemed to respond to my scream and the horribly wet sounds of their inhabitants broke free through the membranes. So when I came careening around the corner of the false wall and straight into the loving arms of my childhood friend, his anger and my fear of him were short lived.

Horrible, black and scarlet crab-like _things_ broke out of their pods and scurried down the walls, intent on feasting. We stood, frozen for a moment with the Joker's iron grip on my wrists as we watched one of his henchmen be consumed alive. And stood witness to another two of the fifty or so creatures feast on their mother.

We didn't think, we just dove through the door closest to us when we discovered that fire power was no use against them. Pushing the heavy door shut and sliding the lock home, I stood there in horror as the other henchmen pounded on the door before the faint echoing of his screams a second later destroyed any effort we might have had at saving his life.

Bile rose in my throat, and I barely made it to the corner before I rejected the contents of my stomach. Spitting the bitter taste of bile from my mouth, I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and walked forward a few steps, hands on the small of my back as I stretched while I walked. I did my best to ignore the Joker's black eyes boring into my back.

I started laughing, the shock of the situation getting to me. I laughed so hard that I sat down on the floor and howled with laughter.

"Good, you're-um-starting to see the humor the situation," the Joker said, although he looked like he was missing out on the joke which only made me laugh harder until I was pounding on the floor with my fists.

In fact, what finally got me to shut up was the sound of scraping claws against the metal door we had come through.

"I think it's time to get outta dodge," I said, raising one eyebrow succinctly at the door.

"Glad you agree," he said, but instead of helping me up, he grabbed me by the hair and started dragging me down the hall, pushing through another heavy door. We made it halfway down the catwalk before he dropped me heavily onto the metal walkway. "Come on come on, things to do people to kill."

I began pushing myself up and when I looked beyond the comforting reality of the catwalk, I saw nothing but darkness vanishing beneath us. What the hell was this place?

"Do you know where we are?" I asked, breaking the Joker's impatient silence.

"Who cares where we are, we've an errand to run!" He said, striding along while I still clung meekly to one of the poles that was bolted to the ceiling, praying for dear life, but his next words stopped me. "We're going to get our daughter."

I forgot my fear as fury rushed through my veins like ichor. I took off down the catwalk after him and jumped onto his back, wrapping my hands around his throat, intent on the kill. The Joker struggled and thrashed, but I managed to hold my own, years of living wild in the Faroe caves had given me tremendous leg strength.

He slammed back hard against the far wall and my head slammed back, momentarily loosening my grip and causing me to see stars. I dropped limply onto the ground and stayed there for a moment.

"Now-um-I'm not going to kill you Brita, because I need you, but I suggest you behave yourself around Enna, lest she end up without a mother," the Joker rasped. "Now stop dawdling, it's time to go."

I felt woozy, but I still forced myself uncertainly to my feet and tottered off after him in my pumps.

Through the door we found ourselves in a concrete maintenance walkway, and I followed the Joker until we reached a drain that seemed to suit him.

"Good, good, this is perfect. Now take off your pants Brita," the Joker said, turning back towards me.

"W-what?" I asked, taking a frightened step back.

"Take off your pants," he said bitingly. "Come on, we don't have all day."

I felt horribly sheepish and self-conscious. After the horror of giving birth to Enna, I could no longer have children because the damage and the pro-longed labor had been so extensive and now I felt more comfortable keeping myself covered up. The Joker, on the other hand, didn't seem to care.

He strode forward, wrapping an arm neatly around my chest and holding a knife to my throat, unbuttoned my jeans with his other hand and slid my pants off onto the ground and I began to hum, staring off into the distance an trying desperately to get away from whatever was going to happen next.

"Stop humming," the Joker said nervously, he sounded so far away, but nevertheless, my humming became more frantic. "STOP! HUMMING!"

He pushed me hard against the wall, the knife against my throat, and I gasped, the vision of my home in Eysturoy fading into nothing. Then the words of the song I was humming came to mind.

"Circus life, under the big top world, we all need the clowns to make us smile," I murmured sweetly, the words of the old Journey song came bubbling up from another time. "Through space and time, always another show. . ."

My words seemed to make him calm and thoughtful, and his knife fell away, his hands on my body became almost gentle, caressing, but I knew that they were nothing more than whispered lies. Still, after all these years, he still made my body sing, and a lone tear slid down my cheek.

"Brita, you're going to climb the ladder and get Enna," the Joker said calmly almost courteously. I shuddered, and then pushed away from the wall, climbing the ladder and pushing the grate aside. I had come up in the garden of the convent where I had placed Enna for her own protection. But before I could climb fully out, the Joker grabbed my ankle and pressed the barrel of his gun into the seat of my womanhood and I stifled an involuntary cry of rage and desperation.

Then I spotted Enna sitting under an old Japanese maple with Sister Jillian, reading a book and chatting quietly.

"Enna, I need you to come with me," I said stiffly in English. "Your father wants to meet you."

Enna's dark eyes widened. "Mama. . ."

"Enna, it's okay, everything's going to be okay, I just need you to stay calm and come with me," I said calmly in Faroe.

"Speak English!" The Joker yelled from under me and I shrieked when he cocked the gun.

"Come on Enna, there's a good girl," I said as my daughter approached and I waved off the Joker with my foot, descending the ladder and pulling up my pants, I watched my daughter descend the ladder and wrapped one arm protectively around her when she reached the ground.

"Let's go," the Joker said, and took off, striding away. Enna and I regarded one another for a moment before turning to follow him.

The Joker's movements were frantic and panicked and seemingly random until we climbed out of the sewer, blinking in the daylight. "Get in the van."

We drove for hours, and I held Enna tightly in my arms, murmuring sweet nothings in Faroe. Eventually we pulled up in front of an apartment building and Enna and I piled out onto the pavement in the pouring rain. We were pushed and prodded and generally shoved inside and up eight flights of dilapidated stairs and into a dingy old apartment with yellowing peeling wallpaper. After locking the door, he ushered us into the living room and paced a moment while we both stared up at him fear.

"Come here and greet your father, eh Enna?" the Joker said lightly, and Enna's hand tightened into a Vulcan Death Grip on my hand. When she didn't move, his smile froze into ice.

"Enna," I said softly, careful to speak in English. "It's okay."

Enna reluctantly let go of my hand and walked forward a few steps, staring at her father's brown shoes. I had to stop myself from flinging myself on the Joker as he reached out his hand and lifted her chin up to look into her eyes.

Then he took her by the hand and lead her into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them


	17. Chapter 17

Enna and the Joker stayed inside that room for hours. My efforts at overhearing their conversation was fruitless, although I could hear the murmur of voices and occasional laughter passed through the thick wood door.

Eventually I sat down on the floor and fell asleep. I don't know how long I slept for, but when I woke up, Enna was shaking me awake.

"He wants to see you," she murmured gently in her milk tongue, a soft peaceful smile graced her lips, as though she held the secret to the universe in her soul.

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?" I asked desperately, taking her face in my hands and looking her over intently.

"I'm fine Mama. He's waiting for you," Enna said gently before retreating to the living room and settling herself benevolently on the ancient plaid sofa.

I heaved myself to my bare feet, cringing at the crunchy feeling of the ancient rug against my toes, and pushed through the heavy oak door, closing it gently behind me.

My childhood friend sat comfortably one in of two armchairs. His jacket laid on the bed, and I couldn't quite suppress my smile at our matching shirts. Sometime in his hours with Enna, he had washed off the grease paint leaving his face clean and smooth save for the horrendous scars that marred his features.

I settled myself across from him, taking the pin out of my thick green hair, the heavy locks tumbled down my shoulders. I sat back in the chair, tucking my feet up under me and studying the Joker's face intently. Not saying a word, just studying his features. The Joker, in turn, did the same to me.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of circling one another in silence, he spoke.

"Enna's going back to the school at first light, and as soon as this is over, you're going to take our daughter and get the hell out of Gotham. And never, ever come back," the Joker said, almost threateningly.

"As soon as what's over?" I asked warily, and the Joker grinned.

"You and I Brita, are gonna watch Gotham burn from the inside out," he said, and then started laughing. Not the happy laughter he had had with Enna, but a laughter that came straight from the pit of madness, and I quailed before it. "But first things first. How did our daughter come into the world?"

I snorted with laughter. "You were there, you tell me."

"Brita," he said shortly, sobering me instantly.

I allowed my eyes to wander over the room, collecting my thoughts and trying to dredge up the courage to tell the Joker a story I had never told anyone, not even Enna. Then I began to speak.

_Several days before I went into labor the police had come around and told us to board up our windows, the storm of the century was headed our way, and all the sea towns were going to take a bad hit, and that included Eysturoy. So all the men of the village pitched in to help the elderly and the lone women (i.e. me) get ready for the storm. In turn the women, lone and otherwise, baked bread, made butter, and casseroles and other dishes that kept well, making sure everyone in the village had enough to get them through the storm._

_It began raining late that evening, and for several days I had been having small contractions, but not enough to get me to see a doctor. Well, Enna's like you, she likes to make an entrance, and naturally she chose the worst night possible to make her entrance into the world._

_I was lying in bed, my body wrapped around a massive pillow because my stomach was so suffocating, listening to the storm. My contractions were coming closer together, but I smiled into them, I was so proud of my broad hips and thick thighs, I had nothing but utter faith that my body would do what it was designed for. My contractions grew until I felt a dampness on my thighs, and I turned on the light and put a hand between my legs. My water had broke, and I sat there in stunned silence for a moment, staring at the little crib a neighbor had made for me as a house warming present._

_Then another contraction shook me into action, or rather, had me screaming and grabbing the bedclothes in a panic. I rode it out, waiting for the pain to end before I grabbed my notebook with my birth plan in it. My midwife was two towns away and locked down in her own house. When I picked up the phone though, I discovered that the line was dead._

_I filled up my bathtub with warm water and clambered inside, sinking down into the warm depths. My bathtub was three and a half feet deep, with several seats built into the side, like an old Japanese bathing pool. I rode out the pain, trying to breathing, trying to remember my focal points and everything else the midwife had told me. But as the night bore on and the storm grew worse, my contractions came close together and I fought against the instinct to push myself to death. Hoisting myself out of the tub, I grabbed a hand mirror and tried to find my daughter who was deeply lodged in the birth canal. I could feel her head and her tiny limbs moving, reaching for the new world that was waiting for her._

_Then, suddenly, her weight shifted, and I screamed with the horrible cramping sensation. It was like she had turned inside of me, and I squatted down on the tub floor, reaching up into myself, trying to rotate her but I couldn't get my hand up far enough and finally I gave into the instinct to push push push until I roared with the effort, screaming over the crashing thunder and lightening as Enna's weight shifted against me and then everything happened very fast._

_Her head cleared my body, and I reached down to pull her out of me, a torrent of blood following in it's wake. I lifted my daughter out of the tub, smiling at her indignant roar for my breast and reality set in. I was exhausted, but I would die in that tub if I didn't do something. So I placed our daughter on the ground and began packing the junction between my thighs with towels. I breast fed our bloody daughter while I quietly bled. Finally, towards dawn, the storm abated, and I managed to crawl out of the bathroom, pulling a blanket around my shoulders, I pushed our naked selves out into the storm-ridden night, and fought my way over the debris, crying pathetically all the way to my neighbor's where I pounded on her door._

_She took one look at me and sent her husband to fetch the midwife, putting me to bed in the guest room, she cleaned Enna and put her in a dresser drawer of all things before peeling away the bloody towels. My neighbor had been a nurse in Edinburgh for many years, and then in her 75th year, didn't yield away from my birth wounds. Instead she propped my knees up and began packing my womb while I sang softly, floating on the sensation of lost blood and exhaustion. When the midwife arrived, she brought her doctor husband with her, and all of them flowed around me until finally, someone thought to give me a sedative and I slept for eighteen hours._

_When I woke, Faroe was scoured clean by the storm, and my midwife helped me home, changed the sheets and put me to bed. She told me. . . _

I trailed off, lost in thought, trying hard not to let the pain of my memories consume me. I hated myself for what I had done, more than I hated the Joker for what he did to me and my daughter.

_Enna and I camped out for a week. She made up for her lost time at the breast within the first two days, and slept the rest of the time. Gods she was beautiful. She smelled like unicorns, or fairy dust, something pink and incredible. And. . . I couldn't stand the sight of her._

_My neighbor took her away from me, for a month I laid in bed, guilt-stricken and hating myself for pushing my daughter away, but I couldn't help it. The damage Enna had left in her wake was unfathomable; after her I can't bear anymore children. The choice of having more had been taken away from me, and I blamed Enna, who was completely innocent._

_And then one day all of the women in my village came to my house, broke down the door, and marched into my bedroom, holding my naked daughter high over their heads and my midwife forced me to looked at our daughter._

_"Look at your child!" My midwife screamed at me._

_"I can't," was all I could manage. And then my midwife slapped me. Hard across the face._

_"You are blaming your child for something she did not do! This is your destiny! You are the mother of a beautiful baby girl and that's all that should matter. Now hold your daughter and breast feed her and pray that you didn't do too much damage!" She railed at me while my neighbor, the nurse, unbuttoned my blouse and Enna found the breast and I gasped aloud at the intense sensation of a child fighting for her life and I began to cry._

_All of those women camped out in my house for three days, teaching me how to be a mother, and by the end of the week, it was just me, Enna, and the midwife. And within another few days, it was just me and our daughter._

_After what had happened, I lived inside of my daughter. I taught piano at the village school, and took Enna with me to teach. On the weekends I'd perform at village events. I made a quiet living for us._

"Our hair couldn't be bleached of the green color," I said, staring distantly out the window. "I tried and tried to make us blonde, but it never seemed to work. So finally I just dyed our hair black with henna and prayed Enna would never find any of this nightmare out."

Silence prevailed in the dingy little bedroom. The Joker was staring thoughtfully out of the darkened window, and I tried to compose myself as best I could. I briefly wondered if getting some tequila was too much to ask, and then pushed the thought aside.

"We're going to go for a walk," the Joker announced easily, jumping to his feet, he hauled me up after him, and then wrenched open the bedroom door. "Come on Enna, we're going for a walk."

Enna and I exchanged a look, and followed the Joker into the peeling halls of the old building. When we burst out into the cool night air, I took a deep breath and smiled. Winter was coming, and hopefully we'd be back in Faroe by the first snow fall.

The Joker walked a few feet ahead of us at a leisurely pace, cutting a seemingly random path through Gotham City, until we finally strode up to Enna's school, and the Joker turned around and presented himself to our daughter with his own special brand of theatricality.

"Now Enna, your mother and I and are going to run some errands together. And then she's going to come for you and you're going to head home before the sparks fly. So you take care," the Joker said pleasantly, smiling down at her serenely.

I had to force myself to stop gaping in wonder at the Joker and pay attention to Enna. "As soon as this is over I'm gonna come for you along with Gran, and we're going to get the hell out of dodge. So pack what you want to take back with you and get ready to roll on a moments notice."

"Yes Mama, I love you," Enna said, grabbing me in a fierce hug, and I held her tightly, almost breathlessly, letting out a sob.

"Oh Enna, I love you too, more than words can say," I breathed into her hair.

"Now go," Enna said. "The sooner you go, the sooner you come back."

My daughter disappeared into the darkened halls of her boarding school without another word, and I turned to face my ball and chain. "What now?"

"Now we go to your place," the Joker said, grabbing my wrist and leading me on another seemingly random journey down into the Narrows to get to my building, and an hour later, we fell through the front door and I pulled off my shoes, leaving them on the floor, I massaged them quietly for a few moments before peeling myself off the floor and headed for the bathroom.

I turned on the shower and then stripped down and sat on the toilet. While I peed, I stared up at the wall in front of me with the strange water stain in the shape of the Virgin Mary. Sighing, I cleaned myself off, washed my hands and brushed my teeth before climbing into the shower. The hot water felt good against my skin, hot and pounding, almost painful, but in a good way. I kept trying to block the images that came to mind from the previous days' doings, and I was so lost in thought, I didn't hear the Joker come in until his hands were on my waist from behind.

Reflexively I grabbed the shower knobs and clung to them.

"Turn around, I want to see you," the Joker said while I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip. He tugged more forcefully and then he gripped my hands tightly and pried them away from the knobs, pulling me back against him, his chest against my back, my arms pressed together in front of me.

I resisted his efforts every step of the way like a stubborn puppy. When he finally did get me to turn around, I stared down at my feet, unable to look into his eyes. I could feel him taking in my stretch marks and varicose veins, the trademarks of mothers everywhere. When he reached out to finger an angry scar on my right side, I batted his hand away.

"What happened here?" He asked with delight, bending down to get a closer look.

"I got that in an accident, it's no big deal," I said defensively.

"You look like you got impaled," he commented, grinning up at me.

"I did," I replied grimly. "One of the village kids ran out of his house during a bad storm, apparently his parents were fighting. When they found out he was gone, everyone in the village was roused. Children were left with the elderly while all of the able-bodied when it search of him. Well just my luck, the kid was hiding on his father's fishing boat, crouched down in the cabin. I don't know how he didn't get swept out to sea, because I almost got knocked off the dock into the water from the wind alone. Well, one of the lines got loose, and it had a big hook on it, the kind that suspend big fish for cleaning on deck. And it stuck me in the side. Luckily I was found in time otherwise we'd probably both have died out there."

"And I'm sending you back there?" He asked, incredulous.

"I have no regrets or compunctions about living in Faroe. I quite enjoy it," I said, turning off the water and grabbing a towel. I dropped one on his head, and climbed out onto the damp tile floor, drying off, I went into my bedroom and pulled on some pajamas and crawled into bed.

"You need to pack," the Joker said, coming out and gazing down at me.

I shrugged. "I'll pack in the morning."

"Pack now," he said, his voice strangely high pitched.

I stepped back, standing up to my full 5'6" and put on my best Mega Mom face. "Why should I?"

"Because toots, I-ah-said so," he said with a terrible finality.

We stared each other down for a long moment, and in the end, I turned and pulled my luggage out of the closet. I packed my clothing, even shoving the diamonds into the bag at the Joker's behest. When my bag was packed and stood in the living room next to the coffee table where Gran sat, the Joker hit me. Hard. His iron fists pounded into my kidneys and belly, he pulled my hair and kicked and punched me, telling me cruelly the entire time that I was an unfit mother.

And when he finally finished and I laid on the floor, bruised and bleeding, I licked my cracked lips, not unlike my compatriot. "I may be an unfit mother, but I didn't see you in Faroe making an effort at car pools and helping Enna with her homework. I made a terrible mistake, and I know I won't ever be forgiven for that. But at least I didn't torture the only family I ever knew and then act like I wasn't to blame."

The Joker left me there alone, flopping down hard on the couch, and eventually I managed to drag myself off to bed.

That night I dreamt.

I was in a cavern deep beneath the earth, walking along side an underground stream. In the first chamber I came too, my daughter was there, seated on a gilt stool. She brushed out her verdant green locks with a boar bristle hair brush. Over and over, the strokes were rhythmic and even. She had no mouth, no lips. Just an empty space below her nose and above her chin.

I tried to get her attention, but she merely stared off into the distance, brushing her hair.

I continued on, deeper into the earth until I reached another chamber where my mother sat, sewing a green velvet dress. She had no ears, no openings for her ear canals, and she was deaf to my cries, as much in death as she had been in life. Shuddering, I moved on.

Deeper, deeper into the earth.

Snakes began to appear around my ankles, wrapping themselves around my bare legs beneath my long skirt. I nervously pushed them away, trying to keep them from the quick of me.

In the third chamber sat my grandmother. Sightless and serene, she sat spinning thread while seated in a rickety wooden chair. The snakes swarmed over our feet and they twined through my grandmother's hair, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Brita, you are no longer the maiden. You are the mother and the crone," my grandmother said evenly. "You are everything, and you are nothing."

"And the snakes?" I asked gently.

"They represent your other half. You are a woman Brita, stronger and more free than any man could hope for. Jack never tried to tame you. But the Joker will chain you down given the opportunity. Go with the snakes, they will show you what to do," my grandmother said, placing her spinning to one side, she rose and approached me, undressing me slowly until I stood naked and shivering before my grandmother.

I followed her pointed finger to the end of the cave and slipped into a fissure. Smiling at the rough stone that scraped against my breasts and belly until I emerged into the dark dry bowl of stoney earth. The air felt immense and hot, and I knew that this was one of the sacred places, deep inside the earth. Here I did not shun the snakes, instead I laid on the floor with them, and listened to their stories until I wept with the fullness of what I become.

When I woke, I found I was weeping, rocked by an orgasm that shook me to the core. I quietly got up, gathering my robe to me, I stole into the living room, past the sleeping figure of the Joker and out onto the fire escape. I rocked and wept in the cool evening air. I felt soar and bruised and damaged, but strangely beyond the here and now. My hand crept between my thighs, resting at the junction of my womanhood, and when my fingertips came away, there was blood on my fingertips


End file.
